_    THE 

DOMINANT 
STRAIN 


THE   DOMINANT   STRAIN 


THE 


DOMINANT   STRAIN 


AUTHOR  OF  "TEDDY,  HER  BOOK,"  "PHEBE,  HER  PROFESSION, 

"TEDDY,  HER  DAUGHTER,"  "NATHALIE'S  CHUM," 

"  EACH    LIFE    UNFULFILLED  " 


ILLUSTRATED   BY 
HARRY    C.    EDWARDS 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1903 


Copyright,  1903, 
BY  LITTLE,  Biiowx,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published    May,    1903 


UNIVERSITY    PRESS     •      JOHN    WILSON 
AND   SON       •       CAMBRIDGE,     U.S.A. 


STACK 
ANNEX 


I       -**1* 

*•»  f~  •?  * 

«.'  "~1     /•.•> 

s>^ 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FROM    DRAWINGS    IX    COLOR    BY    HARRY    C.    EDWARDS 

"  '  Beatrix  ?  '  he  said  " Frontispiece 

"  '  Can't  you  make  any  sort  of  an  excuse  for 

yourself,  Sidney  ?'  she  demanded  "  Page  123 
"  It  was  so  that  Thayer  liked  best  to  think 

of  her " „  205 

"  Beatrix  still  sat  at  the  disordered  table  "  „  245 
"  '  I  believe  I  might  as  well  ask  you  now  '  '  „  339 


THE 

DOMINANT  STEAIN 

CHAPTER   ONE 

BEATRIX  smiled  a  little  wearily.  Intimate 
friends  are  sometimes  cloying,  and  she  felt 
a  certain  irritation  rising  within-  her,  as 
she  watched  Sally's  bright  face  under  her  French 
toque,  and  listened  to  the  easy  stream  of  chatter 
which  issued  from  Sally's  lips.  Sally  had  never 
faced  such  a  crisis  as  the  one  confronting  Beatrix, 
that  day.  Moreover,  she  had  dimples,  and  it 
was  impossible  to  believe  in  the  sympathy  of  a 
person  whose  dimples  insisted  upon  coming  into 
sight,  even  in  the  midst  of  serious  discussion. 

"If  he  has  n't  already,"  Sally  persisted  ;  "  he  is 
bound  to  do  it  before  the  season  is  over.  Then 
what  shall  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"  Are  n't  you  rushing  things  a  little  ? "  Bea 
trix  inquired  languidly.  "  Please  do  remember 
that  I  only  met  Mr.  Lorimer  at  the  Horse  Show, 
and  that  it  is  three  weeks  to  Lent." 

"That's  nothing,"  Sally  replied  flatly,  but 
flippantly.  "  You  subjugated  Eric  Stanford  in 

1  [1] 


Tlic  Dominant  Strain 


half  that  time,  and  his  gray  matter  has  been  in  a 
pulpy  condition  ever  since." 

"  I  did  n't  know  it." 

"  About  his  gray  matter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  congenital  trouble.  I  mean  I 
did  n't  know  that  I  had  subjugated  him.  Besides, 
that  is  different.  He  was  Bobby  Dane's  chum, 
and  we  took  him  into  the  family." 

"  Took  him  in  all  over,"  Sally  drawled. 

Beatrix's  eyes  flashed.  There  were  things  she 
would  not  say  to  Sally  ;  there  were  also  things 
which  Sally  could  not  say  to  her. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said,  as  she  rose ;  "  but  I 
must  get  ready  for  Mrs.  Stanley's  recital.  How 
does  it  happen  you  are  n't  going  ?  " 

"  For  the  most  ignominious  of  reasons.  I  'm 
not  bidden.  Mrs.  Stanley  and  I  were  on  a  com 
mittee  together,  once  upon  a  time.  We  squab 
bled  over  some  amateur  theatricals,  and  she  has 
cut  my  acquaintance  ever  since.  I  always  did 
say  that  there  is  nothing  like  amateur  theatricals 
for  bringing  out  all  the  worst  vices  of  humanity. 
If  a  Shakespearian  revival  ever  reaches  the 
heavenly  host,  Gabriel  and  Michael  will  have  to 
play  Othello  and  lago  turn  and  turn  about,  to 
prevent  ill-feeling.  Beatrix  ?  " 

"Well?" 

[2] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  What  do  you  honestly  think  of  Mr.  Lorimer?" 

Beatrix  hesitated.     Then  she  faced  her  friend. 

"  That  he  is  the  most  interesting  man  we  have 
met,  this  season."" 

"  That's  not  saying  any  too  much.  Still,  it  is 
an  admission.  Are  you  going  to  marry  him  ?  " 

"  He  has  n't  asked  me." 

"  But  he  will." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  do  know." 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  it."  Beatrix  laughed 
nervously. 

"  But  if  he  does  ? " 

"  I  —  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  either." 

"Beatrix!     Why  not?" 

Beatrix  untied  the  long  ribbons  which  belted  her 
gown,  and  stood  drawing  them  slowly  through  and 
through  her  fingers.  Sally  leaned  back  in  her  deep 
chair  and  watched  her  friend  keenly,  mercilessly. 
She  and  Beatrix  had  fenced  long  enough  ;  it  was 
time  for  the  direct  thrust.  Sidney  Lorimer  was 
the  most  available  man  on  that  winter's  carpet. 
Moreover,  for  weeks  he  had  been  a  patient  fol 
lower  in  the  wake  of  Beatrix  Dane.  Beatrix 
might  be  as  impenetrable  as  she  chose  ;  but  Sally 
knew  that,  during  the  past  week,  she  had  been 
reading  the  headings  of  certain  suppressed  chap- 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ters  in  Lori  liter's  history,  and  that  they  had 
changed  her  whole  attitude  towards  the  man. 
The  signs  were  slight,  too  slight  for  him  to  have 
recognized  them  as  yet ;  but  Sally's  curious,  piti 
less  eyes  had  discerned  them.  She  had  discerned 
and  disapproved,  and  she  had  resolved  that  no 
squeamish  delicacy  should  keep  her  from  prevent 
ing  Beatrix's  playing  the  part  of  a  prude. 

"  He  is  the  best-looking  man  of  the  season,  and 
the  best  dancer.  He  took  honors  at  Gottingen. 
He  has  any  quantity  of  money.11  Sally  ticked  off 
the  points  on  the  tips  of  her  gray  glove.  "  And 
most  of  all,"  she  tapped  her  thumb  conclusively, 
"  he  is  very  much  in  love  with  Miss  Beatrix 
Dane,  and  I  want  him  to  marry  her." 

"  Oh,  Sally,  do  be  sensible ! "  Beatrix  burst 
out  impatiently.  Then  she  pulled  herself  up 
sharply  and  turned  to  bay.  "  AVhat  about  the 
Forbes  supper  ?  "  she  demanded. 

Sally  shrugged  her  shoulders,  as  she  fastened 
her  fur  collar. 

"Oh,  Beatrix,  you  prig!  Are  there  any  men 
of  our  set  who  haven't  been  a  little  frisky?" 

"  Frisky  !  That  is  a  milder  word  than  I  should 
use,  Sally.     The  Forbes  affair  transcends  friski- 
ness  and  becomes  the  beginning  of  the  pace  that 
kills.     It  was  intolerable  ;  I  can't  forgive  it." 
[4] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Her  face  flushed  ;  then  it  paled  and  hardened 
with  the  rigidity  of  self-control.  Sally  peered  out 
at  her  through  lowered  lashes,  and  judged  that  it 
was  time  for  her  to  remove  herself.  She  had 
known  Beatrix  from  their  childhood,  and  this  was 
the  first  time  she  had  seen  her  jarred  from  her 
self-possession.  She  fastened  the  last  hook  with  a 
jerk.  Then  she  rose  and  went  to  her  friend's 
side. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  to  tease  you,  dear,"  she  said 
penitently.  "  I  know  this  has  been  worrying  you  ; 
but  don't  let  it  get  on  your  nerves  and  influence 
you  too  much.  All  men  make  slips  at  times.  Mr. 
Lorimer  is  a  good  fellow,  even  if  he  has  been  a 
little  fast.  He  would  drop  all  that  as  soon  as  he 
was  —  settled.  Besides,  this  is  n't  nearly  as  bad 
as  ever  so  many  of  the  stories  we  hear.'" 

"  No,"  Beatrix  assented  drearily  ;  "  but  it  is  bad 
enough." 

"  Then  you  do  care  ?  " 

"  Care  !  "  She  laughed  a  little  harshly.  "  Sally, 
truly  I  must  send  you  off'.  It  is  time  I  was 
dressing,  for  I  promised  to  go.  I  am  sorry, 
but  —  " 

"  I  am  used  to  being  dismissed ;  I  shall  come 
again."  There  was  no  hint  of  rancor  in  Sally's 
tone,  yet  she  went  away  fully  convinced  that  her 

[5]   ' 


The  Dominant  Strain 


own  system  of  measurement  could  never  reach  the 
heights  and  the  depths  of  her  friend's  mood. 

Left  to  herself,  Beatrix  forgot  her  need  for 
haste.  She  dropped  down  into  a  chair,  and  sat 
for  many  moments  brooding  over  the  fire.  Her 
hand  shielded  her  face ;  yet  it  could  not  conceal 
the  anxious  lines  above  her  eyes  nor  the  drooping 
lips.  Lorimer  had  asked  permission  to  call  upon 
her,  that  evening,  and  she  knew  by  instinct  what 
the  evening  was  holding  in  store  for  her.  Con 
fronted  with  the  final  decision,  she  was  at  a  loss 
which  course  to  take.  Should  she  close  her  eves 
to  the  plague-spot  which  might  one  day  spread 
and  spread  until  it  tainted  her  whole  life  ?  The 
present  was  very  tempting.  Why  not  take  it, 
and  ignore  the  future  ?  Most  girls  would  wink  at 
the  suspicion  which,  during  the  past  week,  had 
been  clouding  her  dream  of  perfect  content.  How 
far  was  she  accountable  for  the  future  ? 

She  dressed  hurriedly  ;  but  when  she  reached 
Mrs.  Stanley's  house,  the  recital  had  already  be 
gun,  and  she  dropped  into  a  seat  outside  the 
music-room  door.  The  artist  was  a  new  star  upon 
the  hori/on.  She  had  supposed  him  to  be  only 
one  of  the  vast  milky  way  which  helped  to  shed  a 
dim  light  upon  Mrs.  Stanley,  as  that  good  lady 
clambered  slowly  up  the  social  ladder.  Instead  of 
[6] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


that,  Beatrix  entirely  forgot  Mrs.  Stanley's  antics, 
in  watching  for  the  star  itself.  She  even  dismissed 
Lorimer  from  her  mind,  as  she  bent  forward  in 
eager  listening  to  the  invisible  singer. 

"  Great  fellow,  Schubert !  "  her  cousin  observed, 
sauntering  up  to  her  side  as  soon  as  the  recital  was 
ended.  "  They  say  that  this  Thayer  is  daft  upon 
the  subject  of  him.  Anyway,  he  manages  to  inter 
pret  him  fairly  well.  What  did  you  think  ?  " 

She  pulled  herself  out  of  her  absorption  and 
laughed. 

"  Don't  expect  me  to  analyze  him,  Bobby.  He 
is  past  that." 

"  Bad  or  good  ?  " 

"  Good,  if  making  havoc  of  my  nerve  centres  is 
any  test." 

"  Then  you  really  liked  him  ?  I  thought  you 
didn't  want  to  come.'" 

"  I  did  n't.  Nothing  but  a  stern  sense  of  duty 
brought  me ;  but  it  also  brought  its  own  reward. 
One  hears  such  a  voice  only  once  a  decade." 

Bobby  Dane  eyed  her  askance. 

"  Sure  this  is  yourself,  Beatrix  ?  I  thought 
you  scoffed  at  all  baritones,  and  only  delighted 
in  maudlin  tenors  and  anticking  sopranos.  I 
have  hopes  of  you  yet ;  but  whence  comes  your 
conversion  ?" 


The  Dominant  Strai?i 


"From  this  man,  Mr.  -  — "  She  referred  to 
the  programme  in  her  hand. 

"  Thayer,"  her  cousin  prompted.  "  Cotton 
Mather  Thayer." 

Beatrix  gasped. 

"  Bobby  !  What  a  name  for  an  artist !  " 

"  For  a  punster,  you  'd  better  say  ;  but  at  least 
one  can't  doubt  its  genuineness.  If  he  had  been 
going  to  assume  a  stage  name,  he  would  have 
chosen  something  more  romantic.11 

"  Who  is  he,  and  where  did  Mrs.  Stanley  ac 
cumulate  him  ?" 

Bobby  rolled  his  eyes  expressively  towards  the 
portly,  satin-clad  figure  of  his  hostess. 

"  Mrs.  Stanley  hunts  every  lion  that  comes  to 
Manhattan  Island.  As  a  rule,  she  catches  only 
cubs ;  this  is  the  exception  which  proves  the 
rule." 

"  I  have  n't  heard  the  name  before." 

"  No ;  Thayer  is  a  brand-new  lion,  but  fully 
grown.  Of  course,  with  that  name,  his  family 
tree  sprouted  in  Massachusetts ;  but  he  has  been 
in  Germany  and  Italy  for  years.  He  only  landed, 
the  third,  and  is  to  make  his  formal  debut  at  the 
Lloyd  Avalons's  on  the  twentieth.  Don't  you 
want  to  meet  him  ?  " 

"  N  —  no.  I  am  afraid  it  would  be  anticlimax." 
[8] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  does  n't  indulge  in 
speckled  neckties  and  an  imperial.  He  is  a  man, 
as  well  as  a  singer."" 

"  You  know  him,  then  ?  " 

"Yes,  as  one  knows  any  number  of  people. 
Lorimer  has  had  him  at  the  club  occasionally,  and 
I  have  met  him  there." 

"  Mr.  Lorimer  ?  " 

"  Lorimer  knew  him  well  in  Germany.  Come 
and  help  burn  incense  before  him,  and  do  try  to 
say  something  rational.  Those  fellows  must  get 
deadly  sick  of  the  inanities  people  talk  when  they 
are  being  introduced.  If  you  make  a  good  im 
pression,  perhaps  1 11  bring  him  around,  some 
Monday." 

"  Wait  till  you  see  what  impression  he  makes, 
Bobby.  I'm  not  Mrs.  Stanley,  you  know,  and 
I'm  not  stalking  any  lions." 

Even  while  he  laughed  at  the  sudden  hauteur  of 
her  tone,  he  allowed  his  glance  to  wander  over  her 
with  manifest  approval. 

"  Good  for  you,  Beatrix !  But  Thayer  is  a 
gentleman  first  of  all,  then  an  artist.  A  cad 
always  shows  himself  at  a  strange  club ;  but 
Thayer  passed  muster  at  The  Critic,  where  even 
Lorimer  is  n't  altogether  popular." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  demanded  sharply. 

[9] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"Difference  in  taste  in  jokes,"  her  cousin  replied 
evasively.  "  I  only  spoke  of  it  to  show  you  that 
you  were  safe  enough  in  knowing  Thayer.  Lori- 
mer  is  a  good  fellow ;  even  good  fellows  have 
their  foes." 

"  But  if  Mr.  Thayer  has  n't  —  " 

"  Thayer  has  n't  been  here  long  enough  to  get 
them.  Give  him  time,  Beatrix.  Inside  of  six 
weeks,  he  will  have  every  singer  in  New  York 
slandering  him.  There's  nothing  more  lovable 
than  the  way  musicians  stand  by  one  another, 
when  it 's  a  case  of  fighting  a  successful  rival." 

She  laughed  suddenly. 

"  How  do  you  know,  Bobby  ?  You  Ye  not  a 
musician." 

"  Heaven  forfend !  If  I  were,  I  should  spend 
half  my  time  on  The  Island,  doing  sentence  for 
battery  and  breach  of  the  peace.  I  have  known 
a  few  musicians  in  my  time,  Beatrix,  and  I 
know  their  pleasant  little  ways." 

They  had  joined  the  large  group  gathered  at 
the  head  of  the  music-room,  and  were  slowly  work 
ing  their  way  from  the  outer  fringe  to  the  focal 
point.  As  they  waited,  now  advancing  a  step, 
then  halting  again,  Beatrix  listened  in  some  scorn 
to  the  fugue  of  praise  which  rose  about  her,  a 
fugue  composed  chiefly  of  adjectives  heaped  in 
[10] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


confusion  about  the  single,  magical  noun  tem 
perament.  She  shot  a  mischievous  glance  up  at 
her  tall  cousin. 

"  Fancy  any  man  having  to  live  up  to  this  sort 
of  thing,  Bobby  !  Divine  and  perfectly  elegant  do 
not  suggest  the  same  set  of  attributes,  and  I  don't 
see  how  he  can  strike  the  golden  mean  between 
them.  Somebody  really  ought  to  coin  a  new 
word  for  such  emergencies  as  this." 

Before  her  cousin  could  answer,  the  woman  just 
ahead  of  them  had  buried  the  singer's  hand  in  her 
own  pudgy  clasp. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Thayer,  that  was  such  a  pretty  piece 
you  sang  last !  It  was  a  German  piece  ;  was  rft 
it?  It  was  just  sweet!" 

And  it  was  after  such  a  prelude  that  Beatrix 
bowed  in  recognition  of  her  cousin's  introduction. 
Even  as  she  bowed,  there  came  a  swift  realization 
that  she  was  facing  no  anticlimax.  And  yet  the 
man  before  her  was  in  no  wise  the  typical  musician. 
Tall,  so  tall  that  Bobby  Dane,  five  feet  ten  in  his 
stockings,  seemed  short  beside  him,  well-dressed, 
well-groomed,  he  looked  far  more  like  a  prosper 
ous,  alert  man  of  affairs  than  an  artist  or  a 
dreamer.  Moreover,  in  spite  of  certain  lines  in 
his  face,  he  was  absurdly  boyish  to  have  sung 
those  great  songs.  He  could  know  nothing  of  the 

[11] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


real  issues  of  fate  with  which  he  had  been  juggling, 
could  have  no  real  conception  of  either  hope  or 
disappointment.  Doubtless  he  had  developed  his 
WeUschmerz  mechanically,  imitatively,  at  so  manv 
marks  or  lire  an  hour. 

Beatrix  had  always  been  distressed  by  the  flat 
ness  of  her  one-syllabled  name.  It  gained  a  new 
roundness  now  ;  and  she  raised  her  eyes,  as  Thayer 
spoke  it,  to  meet  the  gray  ones  above  her.  They 
were  clear  and  steady  eyes,  smiling,  yet  with  a 
look  in  their  depths  which  to  her  mind  accounted 
for  the  insistent,  troubled  note  in  his  singing. 
The  lines  about  his  shaven  lips  were  firm,  but 
mobile. 

Bobby  eyed  the  two  of  them  quizzically.  Then 
he  broke  in  upon  the  tentative  conversation  which 
follows  an  introduction. 

"  Pass,  Beatrix  !  That 's  quite  original.  I  told 
my  cousin,  Thayer,  that  if  she  could  hail  you  with 
a  new  adjective,  I  should  present  you  as  a  candi 
date  for  a  dish  of  tea,  some  Monday." 

As  usually  happened  with  Bobby  Dane's  re 
marks,  this  proved  the  end  of  any  serious  talk,  and 
Beatrix  laughed,  as  she  responded,  — 

"Please  come  alone,  Mr.  Thayer.  My  cousin 
monopolizes  all  the  conversation,  when  he  is 
present." 

[12] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  And  Miss  Dane  always  demands  a  good  lis 
tener.  Like  a  conspirator,  she  relies  upon  your 
silence,  Thayer." 

"  What  a  restful  hostess ! "  Thayer  answered 
lightly.  Then,  turning,  he  laid  a  kindly  hand  on 
the  arm  of  his  accompanist.  "  Otto,  I  wish  you 
to  meet  Mr.  Dane.  Miss  Dane,  may  I  introduce 
my  friend,  Mr.  Arlt  ? " 

It  was  done  simply ;  but  the  boy  blushed  with 
sudden  shyness  before  the  stately  girl,  whose 
fur  collar  alone  had  cost  far  more  than  his 
whole  year's  expenses.  Beatrix  met  him  cordially, 
for  she  had  seen  him  standing  ignored  in  his 
corner  by  the  piano,  and  she  liked  the  friendly 
way  in  which  the  singer  had  included  him  in 
the  trivial  talk.  It  was  not  until  afterwards  that 
she  suddenly  recalled  the  fact  that  she  herself  and 
tier  cousin  were  apparently  the  only  ones  to 
whom  Thayer  had  introduced  his  companion. 
She  pondered  over  the  reason  for  this  until,  as 
she  slowly  mounted  the  steps  to  her  own  door, 
she  abruptly  recurred  to  the  unanswered  question 
which  had  been  driven  from  her  mind  by  the 
afternoon's  events. 

The  old  butler  met  her  in  the  hall. 

"Mr.  Lorimer  has  just  telephoned  to  you,  Miss 
Beatrix.  He  can't  come,  to-night,  he  says.  His 
[13] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


horse  stumbled  and  threw  him  just  now,  and  his 
ankle  is  sprained.  It  will  be  a  few  days  before  he 
can  go  out." 

And  with  utter  thankfulness  Beatrix  accepted 
even  this  brief  reprieve. 


[14] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   TWO 

"  f    N  AST  your  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  it 
I  will  come  floating  back  to  you  in  time 

^ — *•      to  be  fed  out  to  the  next  man." 
"  Bad  for  the  next"  man's  digestion,  though  !  " 
Bobby   Dane   commented,    as    he   set    down    his 
empty  cup.     "  You  need  n't  offer  me  any  of  your 
second-hand  pabulum,  Beatrix." 

"  You  probably  will  be  in  such  dire  straits  that 
I  shall  offer  you  the  first  chance  at  it,  Bobby,"  she 
retorted. 

"Another  cup  of  tea,  and  two  pieces  of  lemon, 
please,"  Sally  demanded.  "  What  is  the  particu 
lar  appositeness  of  your  remarks,  Beatrix  ?" 

"  Mr.  Arlt  and  Mrs.  Stanley.  Also  the  con 
servation  of  philanthropic  energy." 

Sally  stirred  her  tea  with  a  protesting  clatter  of 
the  spoon. 

"  Beatrix,   I  am   glad  I  did  n't  go  to  college. 
Your  mind  is  appalling ;  your  language  is  more 
so.       May   I    ask    whether   you    are   going    into 
slumming?" 
"  No.     Worse." 

[15] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  For  the  family  credit,  I  must  draw  the  line  at 
the  Salvation  Army,'"  Bobby  adjured  her.  "  A 
poke  bonnet  and  a  tambourine  would  n't  be  a 
proper  fruitage  for  our  family  tree."" 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Beatrix  ?  "  Sally 
repeated.  "  It  is  something  uncanny,  I  know.  I 
felt  it  in  the  air,  and  that  was  the  reason  I  stayed 
until  everybody  else  had  gone.  I  knew  you  wished 
to  confess." 

"  But  I  did  n't." 

"  Not  even  to  ease  your  conscience  ?  " 

"  My  conscience  is  perfectly  easy." 

"  But  you  said  it  was  worse  than  slumming." 

"It  is.  Slumming  is  aristocratic  and  con 
servative  ;  I  am  about  to  be  radical." 

"  Don't  tell  me  it  is  spectacles*  and  statistics," 
Bobby  pleaded.  "  I  abhor  statistical  women  ; 
they  are  so  absorbed  in  collating  material  that 
they  never  listen  to  the  point  of  even  your  best 
stories." 

"  Not  a  statistic,  I  promise  you,  Bobby." 

"  Nor  a  poke  bonnet  ?  " 

"  No ;  my  choice  is  for  toques,  not  pokes.  Do 
you  know  Mr.  Arlt  ?  " 

"Never  heard  of  the  gentleman."  Bobby's  tone 
expressed  cheery  indifference,  as  he  bent  over  to 
prod  the  fire. 

[16] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  But  you  met  him,  Bobby."" 

"  It  was  in  a  crowd,  then,  and  it  does  n't  signify 
that  I  Ve  heard  of  him.  Who  is  he,  Sally  ?  " 

With  the  freedom  born  of  intimacy,  Sally  was 
eating  up  her  lemon  rind,  and  there  was  a  momen 
tary  pause,  while  she  shook  her  head.  Beatrix 
answered  the  question. 

uHe  is  Mr.  Thayer's  accompanist,  that  little 
German  who  was  with  him  at  Mrs.  Stanley's." 

"  Have  you  heard  Thayer  yet,  Sally  ?  "  Bobby 
asked  parenthetically. 

"  No.  I  have  heard  about  him  till  I  am  weary 
of  his  name,  though,  and  such  a  name  !  Cotton 
Mather  Thayer ! " 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  the  handicap  of  go 
ing  through  life  as  Bobby  ?  "  inquired  the  owner 
of  that  name.  "  It  is  a  handicap  ;  but  it  is  also  a 
distinct  advantage.  Nobody  ever  expects  me  to 
amount  to  anything.  No  matter  how  much  I 
fizzle,  they  11  say  '  Oh,  but  it  \s  only  Bobby 
Dane  ! '  Now,  Cotton  Mather  Thayer  is  bound 
to  fill  a  niche  in  the  —  the  —  " 

"  Lofty  cathedral  of  fame  reared  by  the  ages.11 
Sally  helped  him  out  of  his  rhetorical  abyss. 

"  Thanks  awfully  ;  yes.  And  then  Beatrix  will 
scatter  her  water-soaked  breadcrumbs  around  him 
to  coax  the  little  sparrows  to  make  their  nests 
2  [IT] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


in  the  crown  of  his  hat  and  get  free  music  lessons 
for  their  young  in  exchange  for  keeping  his  head 
warm." 

Beatrix  frowned  ;  then  she  laughed.  Bobby 
was  incorrigible,  and  there  was  no  use  in  expect 
ing  seriousness  from  him.  He  and  Sally  were 
alike;  Beatrix  was  cast  in  a  different  mould.  She 
could  suffer  and  enjoy  with  an  intensity  unknown 
to  either  of  the  others ;  yet  she  was  close  kin  to 
her  cousin  in  her  appreciation  of  his  irresponsible 
fun,  even  though  it  would  never  have  occurred  to 
her  to  originate  it.  Moreover,  even  if  it  had 
occurred  to  her,  it  is  doubtful  whether  she  could 
have  accomplished  it. 

"  Who  gets  first  bite  at  your  bread,  Beatrix  ?" 
Bobby  asked  encouragingly.  "  Granted  that 
Arlt,  whoever  he  is,  gets  second  nibble,  who  comes 
in  ahead  ?  r 

"  Mrs.  Stanley."  In  spite  of  herself,  Beatrix 
laughed  at  the  logical  application  of  her  meta 
phor.  Stout,  energetic  Mrs.  Stanley  was  so  like  a 
greedy  young  turkey  snapping  up  the  crumbs 
dropped  from  the  hands  of  her  superiors. 

Sally  raised  her  brows. 

"  Knowing  Mrs.  Stanley1*  appetite,  I  only  won 
der  that  any  of  the  loaves  and  fishes  should  be 
left  over,"  she  drawled  maliciously. 
[18] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Mrs.  Stanley  has  her  good  points,  Sally." 

Bobby  interrupted. 

"Not  a  point.  She  is  all  built  in  parabolic 
curves.  Why  can't  you  be  accurate,  Beatrix,  as 
befits  your  higher  education  ?  You  took  con  it- 
sections  a  year  before  I  did." 

"All  the  more  reason  I  should  forget  them 
sooner.  Besides,  haven't  I  begged  you  not  to 
allude  to  the  fact  that  I  am  a  year  older  than 
you  ? " 

"  But  is  Mr.  Thayer  as  great  a  singer  as  they 
say  ? "  Sally  asked,  with  sudden  irrelevancy. 

"  Greater.     He  is  almost  perfectly  satisfactory." 

"Not  quite  ?" 

"  Not  yet ;  he  will  be,  some  day,  if  he  can  only 
have  an  unhappy  love  affair,"  Beatrix  answered 
placidly,  as  she  rose  from  the  tea  table  and  crossed 
to  the  open  fire. 

"  That  is  an  humane  speech." 

"Artistic,  though.  He  needs  just  that  to 
develop  him.  He  strikes  every  note  but  ten 
derness." 

"  Tenderness  is  generally  located  at  C  in  Alt^ 
Beatrix.  A  baritone  can't  soar  to  that  height ; 
you  should  be  content  when  he  growls  defiance 
and  moans  resignation." 

"  Besides,"  Sally  suggested  ;  "  it  is  quite  within 
[19] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  limits  of  possibility  that  Mr.  Thayer  might 
have  a  happy  love  affair.  Would  that  answer 
your  purpose,  Beatrix  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  It  is  his  minor  key  that 
needs  developing." 

"  Never  mind,"  Bobby  added.  "  Artists  are 
scheduled  for  the  unhappy  loves.  Therein  lies  the 
advantage  of  being  merely  a  newspaper  man." 

Sally  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  Just  what  is  it  that  you  do,  Bobbv  ?  I  know 
you  have  a  desk  and  a  salary  ;  but  I  Ve  never 
been  able  to  find  out  that  you  did  anything  but 
put  your  heels  on  one  and  your  fingers  on  the 
other." 

"  That 's  because  you  are  n't  there  to  see." 

"  No ;  but  I  have  heard.  Do  you  ever  work, 
really  work  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  work.  I  earn  the  jam  to  eat  on 
my  daily  bread.  I  boxed  the  devil's  ears,  this 
morning." 

"  Luther  redhnvus !  You  and  Beatrix  will  soon 
be  great  moral  forces  in  the  metropolis.  Beatrix, 
is  he  really  presentable  ?  " 

"  Bobby,  or  the  devil  ?  " 

"  Neither.     Mr.  Th  —  " 

"  Mr.  Thayer,"  the  old  butler  announced  imper- 
turbably,  and  the  subject  of  discussion  came 
[20] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


slowly  across  the  great  dusky  room  towards  the 
circle  of  light  around  the  table. 

Even  while  she  was  suppressing  her  gasp  of 
sheer  embarrassment,  Sally  admitted  to  herself 
that  he  was  presentable,  very  presentable.  His 
manner  was  altogether  free  from  the  self-conscious 
graciousness  of  an  artist  off-duty ;  moreover,  he 
was  very  big,  very  comely,  very  much  stamped  with 
the  hall-mark  of  her  own  class.  His  eyes  were 
steady ;  his  shoulders  were  broad,  but  his  hands 
were  slim.  As  for  Sally  Van  Osdel,  she  had  one 
attribute  of  a  great  general ;  she  knew  how  to 
beat  a  dignified  retreat  from  an  awkward  situa 
tion,  and  she  it  was  who  broke  in  upon  the  little 
pause  which  followed  the  introductions. 

"  Your  entrance  was  most  dramatic,  Mr. 
Thayer,  for  your  name  was  just  trembling  upon 
our  lips.  Miss  Dane  has  been  asking  us  if  we 
knew  your  accompanist,  Mr.  Arlt." 

He  turned  to  Beatrix. 

"  Otto  ?     What  about  him,  Miss  Dane  ?  " 

"  Only  good.  Miss  Gannion  was  speaking  to 
me  about  him,  last  night." 

"  You  know  Miss  Gannion  ?  " 

"  Who  does  n't  ?  " 

He  laughed  silently  from  between  his  close-shut 
teeth. 

[21] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  That  can  be  interpreted  in  two  senses." 

"Not  if  you  know  Miss  Gannion.  She  is  of  the 
salt  of  the  earth." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  She  is  the  one 
person  in  the  city  to  whom  I  brought  an  intro 
duction.  She  was  out  when  I  called,  so  I  am 
still  a  good  deal  at  sea  in  regard  to  her." 

A  direct  question  would  have  been  unpardon 
able  ;  but  Beatrix  could  see  no  offence  in  the 
note  of  interrogation  in  his  voice. 

"  She  is  a  dear  little  spinster  of  fifty,  with  end 
less  interests  and  not  a  hobby  to  her  name,  the 
most  downright,  practical  person  I  have  ever 
known,  and  the  most  helpful  to  strangers  and 
pilgrims  in  the  city.  It  is  quite  incidental  that 
she  is  uncommonly  rich  and  uncommonly  homely. 
Nobody  ever  stops  to  think  about  either  fact." 

"  And  she  has  heard  of  Arlt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  hears  of  everybody.  She  has  a  great 
talent  for  putting  young  men  on  their  feet  and 
teaching  them  to  walk  alone.  In  fact,  she  is  a 
perfect  employment  bureau  for  meritorious  youth. 
Somebody  wrote  to  her  that  Mr.  Arlt  has  genius 
and  grit,  and  not  a  guinea  to  his  name,  and  she  is 
trying  to  get  him  some  engagements." 

"  She  asked  you  to  help  him  ?  " 

"  Yes.  At  least,  she  spoke  about  him,  and 
[22] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


asked  me  to  keep  my  eyes  open  and  to  say  a  good 
word  for  him,  when  I  can.  What  does  he  want, 
Mr.  Thayer  ?  " 

"  Whatever  he  can  get." 

"  What  does  he  need,  then  ?  "• 

"  Everything."     Thayer's  tone  was  grave. 

"  At  least,  that  is  comprehensive,  Beatrix,"  her 
cousin  assured  her.  "  He  may  even  be  starved 
into  eating  your  chloride  of  manna." 

She  ignored  the  interruption. 

"  And  you  have  known  him  for  some  time,  Mr. 
Thayer?" 

"  Long  enough  to  have  no  hesitation  in  vouch 
ing  for  him,  both  as  a  man  and  as  an  artist."  His 
tone  was  not  unfriendly,  yet  it  was  of  dignified 
finality. 

"  Then  why  the  deuce  has  n't  the  fellow  ar 
rived  ? "  Bobby  rose,  as  he  spoke,  and  planted 
his  feet  accurately  on  the  middle  pothook  of 
the  hearth-rug. 

"  Chiefly  because  art  is  long,  and  we  are  all  too 
busy  to  wait  for  it  to  display  itself.  Give  him 
time,"  Sally  suggested  idly,  for  she  was  becoming 
a  little  bored  by  the  discussion. 

"  Time  is  money,  though.  Perhaps  a  pension 
would  do  just  as  well." 

Thayer  frowned  involuntarily.  To  him,  his  art 
[23] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


was  too  sacred  to  admit  of  any  flippancy  in  dis 
cussing  it.  He  turned  still  more  directly  to 
Beatrix. 

"  Arlt  is  a  thoroughly  good  fellow,  one  you  are 
safe  in  introducing  anywhere.  He  is  only  a  boy, 
barely  twenty  ;  but  he  is  one  of  the  most  satis 
factory  pianists  I  have  ever  heard.  I  don't  mean 
I  have  n't  heard  better  ones  ;  but  never  one  who 
has  been  more  satisfying  to  my  mood,  whatever  it 
is.  His  technique  is  not  perfect,  and  he  lacks 
maturity  ;  but  he  has  a  trick  of  making  people 
dissatisfied  with  other  pianists  and  anxious  to  hear 
him  play  the  same  programme.1' 

"  And  he  will  accompany  ?  " 

"  Ye-es.     Sometimes.1" 

Beatrix  laughed. 

"  I  spare  your  modesty,  Mr.  Thayer.  I  think  I 
understand.  But  really  I  have  n't  much  influence. 
If  I  can  help  him,  though,  you  can  count  on  my 
doing  it." 

"  All  he  needs  is  a  little  start.  As  Miss  Van 
Osdel  says,  New  York  is  moving  too  fast  to  wait 
for  strangers  to  fall  into  step  with  the  procession." 

"  He  is  a  stranger,  then  ?  " 

"  He  came  over  with  me."  Thayer  hesitated. 
"  I  may  as  well  tell  you  a  bit  about  him,"  he  went 
on.  "  It  can't  do  any  harm,  and  it  may  supple- 
[24] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


merit  Miss  Gannion's  story.  He  is  that  unhappy 
being,  the  youngest  son  of  a  younger  son,  and  he 
has  more  ancestors  than  money.  His  father  ran 
away  to  escape  army  service,  and  forgot  to  provide 
for  his  wife  and  children.  The  children  died,  all 
but  two,  Otto  and  a  sister  eight  years  older.  He 
was  half  through  his  musical  training,  when  she 
had  a  fall  that  crippled  her,  and  the  boy  had  to 
give  up  study  and  take  to  teaching.  For  two 
years,  he  fought  a  losing  fight,  giving  lessons  to 
stolid  youngsters,  playing  at  cheap  concerts  wher 
ever  he  could  get  an  engagement,  and  all  the  time 
slowly  dropping  deeper  and  deeper  into  debt. 
One  night,  he  fainted  in  the  middle  of  the  accom 
paniment  to  The  Erf-King,  and  it  looked  as  if  the 
King  had  claimed  him.  There  were  a  couple  of 
Americans  in  the  hall  who  had  been  watching 
him  for  weeks,  and  they  began  to  investigate 
the  case.  Arlt,  it  seems,  had  n't  eaten  anything 
for  two  days ;  and,  just  as  he  had  started  for  the 
concert,  he  had  received  legal  notice  that  the  next 
day  his  mother  and  sister  would  be  turned  into 
the  street,  because  the  rent  was  unpaid." 

"  And  then  ?  "  Sally  queried,  as  Thayer  came  to 
a  full  stop. 

"  Then  they  took  him  out  to  supper,"  he  replied 
prosaically. 

[25] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  And  then  ?  "  Sally  persisted. 

Thayer  spoke  with  some  reluctance. 

"Then  they  found  him  an  engagement  that 
paid  a  better  salary,  and  they  bullied  him  into 
accepting  a  little  loan,  until  the  first  week's  pay 
day  came  around."" 

"  That  was  so  good  of  you ! "  Beatrix  said 
impulsively. 

He  raised  his  brows. 

"  I  was  n't  the  only  American  in  Berlin  at  the 
time,  Miss  Dane." 

"  No ;  you  said  there  were  two  of  you.  But 
there  is  no  use  in  your  denying  that  you  were  the 
one  who  sang  The  Erf-King" 

"  Circumstantial  evidence  convicts  you,  Thayer," 
Bobby  said,  coming  to  the  support  of  his  cousin. 
"  You  sang ;  you  also  fed  him.  Likewise,  you 
brought  him  to  America.  Then  wherefore 
deny  ?  " 

"There's  no  reason  I  should  deny.  I  like 
Arlt,  and  for  weeks  I  had  been  trying  to  get  him 
as  accompanist,  so  I  gained  by  the  affair.  The 
other  fellow  did  n't,  though.  He  was  no  musician; 
but  the  case  interested  him.  He  not  only  backed 
Arlt  financially,  but  he  hunted  up  the  mother 
and  sister  and  did  no  end  of  nice  things  for  them, 
the  things  that  count :  rolling  chairs  and  extract 
[26] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


of  beef  and  all  that  stuff.  He  had  nothing  to 
make  by  the  transaction." 

"  Were  they  properly  grateful  ? "  Bobby 
inquired. 

"  Yes,  to  the  point  of  enthusiasm.  The  mother 
insisted  upon  doing  his  mending  all  the  next 
winter,  and  the  sister  embroidered  him  a  pair  of 
huge  antimacassars  and  a  smoking-cap.  It  sounds 
funny  ;  but  it  was  grim,  earnest  tragedy  mixed 
with  pathos.  He  did  it  all  with  such  tact  that 
the  poor  creatures  never  half  realized  how  for 
a  fact  they  never  came  into  the  middle  of  his  life 
at  all.  Arlt  realizes  it,  though.  That  is  one 
of  the  most  pathetic  phases  of  the  whole  situa 
tion.  By  the  way,  Dane,  you  know  the  fellow, 
I  think." 

"  I  wish  I  did.""  Beatrix  spoke  impetu 
ously.  "  Plenty  of  people  will  give  generously, 
but  not  many  of  them  are  willing  to  give 
humanely." 

Thayer  smiled. 

"  Old  Frau  Arlt  used  to  call  him  her  Lieber 
Sohn,  and  fuss  over  him  as  if  he  were  in  dire  need 
of  her  motherly  care.  He  took  it  just  as  it 
was  given.  The  two  women  lived  too  quietly  to 
have  heard  of  him.  Otto  never  told  them  the 
truth;  but  outside  the  house  his  deference  made  up 
[27] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


for  the  familiarity  at  home.  It  has  been  a  pretty 
story  to  watch,  and  it  has  meant  a  comfortable 
life  for  two  half-starved  women." 

"  Who  was  the  man  ? ""  Bobby  asked  idly. 

"  Lorimer.     Sidney  Lorimer.'1'' 


[28] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   THREE 

OF  course,  as  Bobby  Dane  had  said,  with 
such  a  name,  Thayer's  family  tree  had 
sprouted  in  Massachusetts.     His  Puri 
tanism  was  hereditary   and    strong ;  it    tempered 
the  artistic  side   of  his   nature,  but  it  could  not 
destroy  it.     In   the  musical   sense    of   the   word, 
Cotton  Mather  Thayer  possessed  Temperament ; 
but  his  Temperament  was  the  battle-field  where 
two    warring    temperaments    were    at    constant 
strife. 

In  the  year  of  grace  sixteen  hundred  and  thirty- 
five,  Richard  Thayer,  freeman,  landed  in  America. 
From  Plymouth  Rock,  he  strode  straight  towards 
a  position  of  colonial  fame.  His  children  and  his 
children's  children  kept  up  the  family  tradition 
and  name  until  one  of  them,  of  a  more  theological 
bent  than  his  cousins  had  been,  annulled  the 
custom  of  his  ancestors  and  named  his  oldest  son 
for  the  grim  divine,  Cotton  Mather  Thayer,  and 
during  the  next  one  hundred  and  fifty  years, 
Cotton  Mathers  and  Richards  had  flourished  side 
by  side  among  the  Thayers  of  eastern  Massachu- 

[29] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


setts.  They  were  strong  men,  one  and  all,  quiet 
and  self-contained  in  years  of  peace,  grim  fighters 
in  seasons  of  war,  and  prominent  citizens  at  all 
times,  a  godly,  gritty,  and  prosperous  race.  Of 
such  is  the  greatness  of  New  England. 

Their  records,  like  the  records  of  all  good  things, 
were  slightly  monotonous.  They  were  born  into 
orderly  nurseries ;  they  were  graduated  from  the 
vicissitudes  of  teething  and  mumps  into  orderly, 
peaceful  adolescence.  They  invariably  married 
the  most  suitable  damsel  of  their  own  class,  and 
they  passed  from  an  orderly  old  age  through  an 
orderly  churchyard  into  a  heaven  which  the  imag 
ination  of  their  surviving  kin  peopled  with  orderly 
ranks  of  angels,  playing  gilt  harps  in  perfect  accord. 
Their  artistic  ideals  were  bounded  by  Coronation 
and  the  pictures  in  The  New  England  Primer  and 
Godey.  Blackberry  shrub,  to  their  minds,  was 
the  medium  of  riotous  dissipation. 

Under  such  fostering  conditions,  ancestral  traits 
strengthened  from  generation  to  generation,  until 
the  race  of  Puritan  Thayers  culminated  in  one 
Cotton  Mather  who  was  born  in  the  early  decades 
of  the  last  century,  a  grim  deacon,  a  shrewd  lawver, 
and  the  owner  of  two  or  three  ships  which  sailed 
from  his  own  seaport  town.  Shrewd  as  he  was, 
however,  his  logic  failed  him  at  one  point.  When 
[30] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


his  first  child,  Cotton  Mather  Thayer,  was  a  tiny 
boy,  the  youngster  was  allowed  and  even  invited 
to  toddle  about  the  wharves,  clinging  to  the 
paternal  thumb.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the 
boy  Cotton  was  fourteen,  he  received  a  round 
dozen  of  canings  for  lounging  about  among  the 
shipping.  The  thirteenth  caning  was  one  too 
many.  It  was  more  severe  than  the  others,  and  it 
cracked  the  long-strained  situation.  The  caning 
occurred  in  his  father's  office,  after  hours,  one 
June  night.  The  Thankful  was  booked  to  sail, 
the  next  morning  at  eight.  When,  at  eight-ten, 
it  slipped  down  the  harbor,  it  bore  away  as  cabin- 
boy  and  general  drudge  the  stiff'  and  sore,  but 
unrepentant  sinner,  Cotton  Mather  Thayer,  age 
fourteen. 

His  later  adventures  have  little  concern  with 
the  story  of  his  son's  life.  He  sailed  over  many 
seas,  he  visited  many  lands,  mellowing  by  contact 
with  many  peoples  the  unyielding  temper  of  his 
race.  The  possibility  of  failure  never  once  entered 
into  his  mind.  The  Thayers  always  had  succeeded, 
for  they  always  had  worked.  In  consequence,  he 
took  it  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  that,  at 
twenty-three,  he  should  be  commander  of  the 
President^  stationed  in  the  Baltic  for  a  year  of 
chilly  inaction.  St.  Petersburg  was  near,  and  St. 
[31] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Petersburg,  as  the  young  commander  found,  held 
for  him  the  focal  point  of  the  world,  in  the  person 
of  the  pretty  daughter  of  one  of  the  court  musi 
cians.  Twelve  years  later,  while  the  Presidenta 
was  stationed  in  the  Mediterranean,  its  young 
captain  died,  leaving  behind  him  in  Russia  a 
fragile  wife  and  a  little  son  who  had  inherited 
the  name  and  character  of  the  Thayers,  curiously 
mingled  with  the  artistic,  emotional  temperament 
and  the  rare  musical  ability  of  his  mother's  race. 

It  was  no  common  combination.  Russian  art 
and  Puritan  morals  are  equally  grim  ;  yet  the  one 
yields  to  every  passing  emotion,  the  other  is 
girded  up  by  unyielding  strength.  Throughout 
his  little  boyhood,  the  child's  nature  seemed  borne 
hither  and  thither  by  these  two  counter  currents 
in  his  blood,  now  passing  days  of  quiet,  sturdy 
self-control,  now  swept  by  black  gusts  of  passion 
which  carried  all  things  before  them.  Then,  four 
years  after  his  father's  death,  there  came  two 
events  into  his  life  :  his  mother's  death,  and  the 
discovery  that  he  had  a  voice.  The  one  taught 
him  the  meaning  of  utter,  absolute  loneliness,  for 
the  alien  blood  of  the  Thayers  had  never  been  able 
to  win  many  friends  in  the  land  of  his  mother's 
kin.  The  other  proved  to  be  at  once  a  rudder  to 
guide  him  over  the  uncharted  future  of  his  life,  and 
[32] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


an  outlet  for  the  pent-up  passion  within  him.  His 
voice  was  totally  untrained,  and  as  yet  it  broke 
into  all  manner  of  distressing  falsetto  fragments. 
Nevertheless,  it  gave  him  a  cause  for  living,  and  it 
enabled  him,  the  descendant  of  a  taciturn  race,  to 
give  utterance  to  the  doubts  and  questionings 
which  accompanied  his  growth  to  manhood. 
Bereft  of  his  mother  and  without  his  voice,  he 
might  easily  have  become  an  ascetic  or  a 
criminal. 

To  a  boy  of  sixteen,  trained  to  a  life  of  strict 
economy,  his  slight  income  from  his  father's  in 
vestments  seemed  enough  for  his  needs,  and  he 
felt  a  boyish  disgust  when,  one  day,  word  came  to 
him  that  his  grandfather  had  died,  leaving  him 
the  only  heir  to  the  large  property  laid  up  by 
eight  generations  of  Thayers.  His  grandfather 
had  refused  to  become  reconciled  to  his  son  ;  then 
why  should  he  assume  post-mortem  friendship 
with  his  son's  son  ?  However,  by  the  time  he 
was  launched  into  German  student-life,  dividing 
his  time  fitfully  between  his  university  and  his 
music,  young  Cotton  Mather  was  forced  to  admit 
that  an  ancestral  fortune  was  no  despicable  addi 
tion  to  the  stock  in  trade  of  a  man  starting  in 
life.  He  only  needed  to  watch  the  grinding 
existences  of  some  of  his  comrades  to  realize  the 
3  [  33  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


value  of  money  in  shaping  a  broad  artistic  career. 
Instead  of  wasting  his  gray  matter  over  details  of 
ways  and  means,  he  could  let  that  side  of  life  take 
care  of  itself,  while  he  gave  his  whole  attention  to 
developing  the  best  that  was  in  his  mind  and  his 
voice. 

Of  course,  he  was  extravagant ;  of  course,  he 
learned,  among  other  things,  some  of  the  blacker 
lessons  of  the  student  world.  However,  the  Puri 
tanism  of  his  ancestors  stood  him  in  good  stead. 
It  enabled  him  to  come  into  close  contact  with 
the  seamy  side  of  life ;  but  it  decreed  that  the 
friction  should  never  leave  a  sore  spot  behind  it. 
It  only  hardened  the  fibre.  When  he  ended  his 
studies,  he  knew  the  world  at  its  best  and  at  its 
worst,  but  with  this  distinction  :  the  best  was  an 
integral  part  of  his  life;  the  worst  was  an  alien, 
a  foe  to  be  recognized  and  downed,  however  often 
it  should  face  him. 

From  Gottingen,  where  he  had  met  Lorimer 
casually,  Thayer  went  to  Berlin  to  devote  his  time 
entirely  to  music.  Lorimer  joined  him  there, 
more  because  he  had  nothing  to  call  him  back  to 
America  than  because  he  had  anything  to  call 
him  to  Berlin.  During  the  next  winter,  the  two 
men,  as  unlike  as  men  could  be,  had  shared  a 
bachelor  apartment,  the  one  working  industri- 
[34] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ously,  the  other  playing  just  as  industriously. 
It  was  during  this  winter  that  Lorimer  had 
come  into  contact  with  the  Arlts.  It  was  dur 
ing  this  winter  also  that  Thayer  finally  decided 
to  give  up  his  other  plans  and  make  his  profession 
centre  in  his  voice.  He  had  battled  against  the 
idea  with  the  fervor  of  a  race  to  whom  "the 
stage  "  offered  no  distinction  between  vaudeville 
and  grand  opera,  but  inclined  to  the  charac 
teristics  of  the  one  and  the  scope  of  the  other. 
For  years,  he  had  fought  against  the  temptation  ; 
he  yielded,  one  night,  during  the  second  act  of 
Faust,  and,  in  after  time,  he  could  always  identify 
the  chord  which  had  punctuated  his  decision. 
Three  hours  later,  he  was  studying  that  fraction 
of  Baedeker  which  concerns  itself  with  Italy. 

He  was  in  Italy  for  two  years.  Then  he  went 
back  to  Berlin  for  another  year  of  grinding  work, 
of  passing  discouragements,  and  of  ultimate  suc 
cess.  There  had  been  many  and  many  a  day 
when  his  pluck  had  failed  him,  when  he  had 
questioned  whether  his  voice  was  really  good, 
whether,  after  all,  it  were  possible  to  make  an 
artist  out  of  gritty  Puritan  stock ;  whether,  in 
fact,  he  was  not  a  thing  of  fibre,  rather  than  a 
man  of  temperament.  His  progress  was  great ; 
but  his  ideals  kept  pace  with  it. 
[35] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


It  was  one  dazzling  June  morning  when  he 
took  his  final  lesson.  He  had  gone  onward  and 
upward  until,  for  months,  he  had  been  in  the 
hands  of  the  maestro  universally  acknowledged  to 
be  the  dean  of  his  art.  The  maestro  was  an  old 
man  and  chary  of  his  words ;  yet  even  he  was 
stirred  to  enthusiasm. 

"  My  son,  it  is  time  for  you  to  go,"  he  said,  as 
he  rose  from  the  piano  and  took  Thayers  hands 
into  his  own  fragile,  elderly  fingers.  "  I  can  teach 
you  nothing  more.  It  is  now  for  you  to  work  out 
your  own  reputation.  Not  much  more  of  life  is 
left  in  me ;  but,  before  it  is  ended,  I  shall  hear 
your  name  spoken,  both  often  and  with  praise. 
While  I  live,  my  house  will  hold  a  welcome  to 
you.  Auf  wiedersehen ! " 

As  Thayer  went  out  into  the  sunshine,  the 
glitter  and  the  brightness  of  it  all,  of  the  day  and 
of  the  future,  dazzled  him  and  made  him  afraid. 
Then  of  a  sudden  the  blood  of  the  Thayers,  in 
abeyance  during  those  mad,  sad,  glad  years  of 
study  and  of  striving,  asserted  itself  again.  Obey 
ing  its  behest,  he  turned  abruptly  from  the  street 
where  he  was  seeking  the  impresario  to  whom  his 
master  had  sent  him.  In  that  instant,  he  turned 
his  back  for  many  a  long  month  upon  opera  and 
upon  all  that  followed  in  its  train. 
[36] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


One  clean,  cold  night  in  mid-February,  Thayer 
came  down  the  steps  of  his  club,  where  he  had 
been  dining  with  Bobby  Dane.  At  the  foot  of 
the  steps  he  halted  long  enough  to  button  his 
coat  to  the  chin  and  pull  his  hat  over  his  eyes, 
preparatory  to  facing  the  cutting  wind.  Then, 
turning  southward,  he  went  striding  away  down 
the  Avenue  with  the  vigorous,  alert  tread  of  the 
well-fed,  contented  man.  It  was  still  early,  so 
early  that  the  pavements  were  dotted  with  theatre- 
going  groups.  He  strode  through  and  beyond 
them,  along  the  lower  end  of  the  Avenue,  and 
came  under  the  arch,  standing  in  chill,  austere 
dignity  at  the  edge  of  the  wind-swept  square. 
Over  its  fretted  surface  the  electric  lights  shone 
coldly,  and  the  deserted  benches  beyond  brought 
to  Thayer,  fresh  from  the  glow  and  good-fellowship 
of  the  club,  a  sudden  depressing  sense  of  his  own 
aloofness  from  his  kind.  The  club  and  Bobby 
were  incidental  points  of  contact,  pleasant,  but 
not  permanent.  Like  the  arch,  he  was  alone, 
outside  the  rushing  life  of  the  busy  town,  some 
thing  to  be  watched  and  commented  upon,  but 
never  destined  to  be  really  in  the  heart  of  things. 
Bobby  was  a  part  of  it,  and  Bobby  had  held  out 
to  him  a  welcoming  hand.  He  had  taken  the 
hand,  and  had  dropped  it  again.  It  was  of  no 
[37] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


use.  He  did  not  belong.  The  sensation  was  not 
a  new  one  to  him.  He  had  met  it  before  and  in 
many  places.  It  came  to  him  suddenly  and  un 
bidden,  and  it  lay,  a  chilly  weight,  over  all  his 
consciousness.  It  always  left  him  wondering 
whether  he  would  ever  become  fully  adjusted  to 
his  environment,  whether  it  would  ever  be  pos 
sible  for  him  to  come  into  perfect  contact  with 
his  fellow-men. 

As  if  the  depression  had  brought  with  it  a 
physical  chill,  he  shook  his  broad  shoulders  and 
plunged  his  hands  into  the  side  pockets  of  his 
overcoat.  Then,  facing  westward,  he  went  on 
for  a  block  or  two  and  stopped  at  the  door  of  a 
shabby  boarding-house. 

"  Mr.  Arlt  ? "  he  said  to  the  maid,  in  brief 
interrogation. 

She  nodded  and  stood  aside  to  let  him  pass. 
Thayer's  tread  on  the  dim  stairway  showed  his 
familiarity  with  the  place,  as  did  the  prompt 
calling  of  his  name  which  answered  his  knock. 

Without  laying  down  his  pipe,  Arlt  rose  to 
greet  his  guest. 

"  You  were  so  late  that  I  was  afraid  you  were 
not  coming.'''' 

Thayer  took  off'  his  fur-lined  coat  and  tossed  it 
into  a  chair. 

[38] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Have  n't  you  learned  that  I  always  get 
around  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  was  dining  with  a 
friend,  and  we  took  things  lazily." 

"  And  now  you  expect  to  sing  ?  "  Arlfs  accent 
was  rebuking. 

"  Yes.  I  walked  down  here  to  get  myself  into 
condition.  How  is  it  ?  Are  you  feeling  nervous 
over  the  prospect  ?  " 

Arlt  had  seated  himself  at  the  grand  piano 
which  completely  filled  one  end  of  the  dreary 
room.  Now  he  drew  a  protesting  arpeggio  from 
the  black  keys  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  terrible  woman,  that  Mrs. 
Lloyd  Avalons !  She  was  here  again,  to-day, 
to  tell  me  about  the  programme.  What  does 
she  know  of  music  ?  She  refuses  the  Haydn 
Variations  and  demands  a  Liszt  Rhapsodic.  If 
you  are  not  firm  with  her,  she  will  end  by 
making  you  sing  The  Holy  City  with  a  flute 
obligato." 

Thayer  laughed  unfeelingly. 

"  She  is  a  Vandal,  Arlt ;  but  the  world  will  be 
at  her  musicale,  they  tell  me ;  and  you  will  find 
it  a  good  place  to  make  your  bow  to  an  American 
public.  Mrs.  Dana  told  me,  over  in  Berlin,  that 
Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  gave  the  best  private  recitals 
in  New  York." 

[39] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  What  does  she  know  about  music  ? "  Arlt 
grumbled. 

"  Nothing,  apparently  ;  but  the  new-rich  must 
have  some  sort  of  a  fad,  if  they  are  to  make  them 
selves  count  for  anything,  and  people  will  go  to 
hear  good  music,  even  when  they  know  it  is  a 
mere  social  bribe.  Hofman  could  fill  a  Bowery 
dance-hall  with  the  elect ;  you  only  have  to  lead 
them  to  the  latest  architectural  vagary  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  They  are  bound  to  be  there,  for,  even 
while  they  scoff,  they  like  to  keep  an  eye  on 
Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  for  fear  she  may  prove  to  be 
worth  knowing  after  they  have  snubbed  her ;  so 
play  your  best.  It  may  lead  to  other  engage 
ments  to  come." 

"  And  the  Lis/t  Rhapsodic  ?  "  he  asked  mourn- 
fully. 

"  Bad,  I  admit." 

"  It  is  detestable.  The  Rhapsodies  are  the  for 
lorn  hope  of  artists  who  have  failed  on  Beethoven." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that.  Still,  there 's  a  way  of 
escape.  Announce  to  your  audience  that,  by 
request,  you  are  changing  the  number  from  Liszt 
to  Haydn.  I  do  request  it  most  earnestly." 

The  boy  looked  up  in  admiring  relief. 

"  How  is  it  that  such  ideas  come  to  you,  Mr. 
Thayer  ?  " 

[40] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  My  Yankee  blood,  Arlt.  Now  shall  we  run 
over  my  songs  ?  " 

It  was  characteristic  of  Thayer  that,  in  con 
senting  to  make  his  American  debut  at  the  recital 
of  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons,  he  had  insisted  upon  the 
condition  that  he  should  choose  his  own  assisting 
artist.  How  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  had  heard  of 
him  in  the  first  place  was  a  mystery  which  he  had 
made  no  effort  to  solve.  From  the  testimony  of 
several  members  of  the  American  colony  in 
Berlin,  it  appeared  that  all  New  York  and  half 
of  Boston  had  heard  of  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons,  who, 
for  three  or  four  seasons  past,  had  been  using  her 
really  choice  musicales  as  a  species  of  knocker 
upon  the  portal  of  New  York  society.  By  this 
time,  she  had  passed  the  portal  and  was  disport 
ing  herself  in  the  vestibule,  with  one  toe  resting 
upon  the  sacred  threshold.  Socially,  she  was 
as  yet  impossible  ;  but  her  recitals  had  won  the 
reputation  of  being  among  the  choicest  tidbits  of 
the  season's  musical  feast,  for  she  made  up  in 
money  what  she  lacked  in  artistic  sense,  and, 
thanks  to  her  agent,  she  had  been  able  to  dis 
cover  certain  new  stars  before  they  rose  above 
the  horizon.  For  this  reason  it  was  a  distinct 
honor,  Thayer  was  told,  to  be  bidden  to  sing  for 
Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons,  and  therefore  Thayer  had 
[41] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


promptly  made  up  his  mind  that  Arlt  also  should 
have  a  hearing  upon  this  occasion.  The  boy 
already  had  decided  to  come  to  America.  Thayer 
realized  with  regret  how  cold  a  welcome  the 
country  of  his  own  ancestors  was  accustomed  to 
extend  to  struggling  young  musicians.  Arlt  had 
genius  ;  but  he  lacked  both  influence  and  initia 
tive.  The  fight  would  be  a  long  one,  and  Arlt's 
conquest  would  be  at  the  expense  of  many  a 
wound.  Teutons  are  not  necessarily  pachyderms, 
and  Arlt  was  sensitive  to  a  rare  degree. 

As  Arlfs  fingers  dropped  from  the  keys  at 
the  close  of  Valentine's  song  of  farewell,  Thayer 
laughed  suddenly. 

"  It  is  rather  contrary  to  custom  to  be  accom 
panied  by  the  star  of  the  evening,  Arlt.  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  have  hunted  up  somebody 
else ;  but  these  other  fellows  make  frightful  work 
of  my  accompaniments.  They  hurry  till  they 
get  me  out  of  breath,  and  then  they  take  advan 
tage  of  the  moment  to  drown  me  out.  I  'd  like 
a  baton,  only  I  should  beat  the  accompanist  with 
it,  before  I  was  half  through  a  programme.1' 

The  boy^s  color  came. 

"  When  another  man  accompanies  you,  I  shall 
be  dead,  or  incapable,"  he  returned  briefly.  "  I 
do  not  forget." 

[42] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Nor  I.  But  do  you  also  remember  the  last 
time  we  did  this  in  Germany  ? " 

"  At  my  home  ?     To  Katarina  ?  " 

Thayer  nodded. 

"  It  is  my  song,  you  know.  I  am  superstitious 
about  it."" 

"Mr.  Lorimer  was  there,  that  night." 

"  Oh,  that  reminds  me,  Arlt,  I  heard,  to-night, 
that  Lorimer  was  engaged." 

"  Mr.  Lorimer  ?  " 

"Yes,  to  a  Miss  Dane.  It  is  only  just  an 
nounced,  to-day.  I  was  dining  with  her  cousin 
and  he  told  me."" 

"  She  must  be  good.  I  hope  she  is  also  strong 
of  character,"  the  boy  said,  with  a  curiously  de 
liberate  accent  which  seemed  characteristic  of 
him.  "  He  is  a  good  man  and  a  kind  one ;  but 
he  needs  a  steadying  hand.  I  shall  write  to  the 
mother  and  Katarina." 

"  Will  they  like  the  news  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  Mr.  Lorimer  is  their  friend,  and 
they  will  be  glad  of  any  happiness  which  shall 
come  to  him.  To  the  mother,  he  is  like  a  son, 
for  she  is  simple-hearted  and  knows  nothing  of 
the  world.  To  Katarina,  he  is  like  a  god." 

"  But  gods  don't  usually  marry,"  Thayer  sug 
gested  whimsically,  as  he  took  up  his  coat. 
[43] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


However,  Arlt  was  ready  for  him. 

"  Zeus  did,  and  Homer  tells  us  how  he  quar 
relled  with  his  wife." 

"  Lorimer  never  will  quarrel ;  he  is  too  easy 
going.  By  the  way,  you  met  Miss  Dane  at  the 
Stanley  recital.  Do  you  remember  her  ?  " 

Arlfs  lips  straightened  thoughtfully. 

"  A  tall  lady  in  brown  furs,  who  knew  how 
to  praise  without  making  a  fool  of  herself?'"  he 
queried. 

"  That  is  the  one.  I  should  judge  that  Lorimer 
has  been  making  a  systematic  campaign  ever 
since  he  met  her,  three  months  ago,  and  that, 
after  all,  it  came  suddenly  in  the  end.  Dane 
was  non-committal ;  but  I  think  he  does  n't  like 
Lorimer  any  too  well.  Good-night,  Arlt.  We  11 
rehearse  again,  Wednesday  morning;  meanwhile, 
stick  to  your  Haydn."  And  Thayer  went  away, 
out  into  the  cold,  crisp  air,  which  greeted  him 
now  with  all  its  tonic  force. 

Arlfs  simple,  bovish  loyalty  and  lack  of  self- 
analysis  always  put  him  into  good-humor.  It 
was  as  infectious  as  the  jovial  temper  of  Bobby 
Dane,  Thayer  reflected  enviously,  with  a  sudden 
memory  of  the  idle  talk  over  their  dinner. 
Strange  what  had  put  him  on  his  nerves  after 
wards  !  Then  his  thoughts  flew  to  Lorimer,  and 
[  44  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


he  wondered  how  his  old  chum  would  bear  the 
harness  of  domestic  living.  Perhaps  it  was  just 
as  well  that  no  idea  crossed  his  mind  of  how  far 
his  story  told  to  Beatrix  Dane,  the  Monday  be 
fore,  had  had  a  share  in  shaping  the  decision 
which  was  to  change  the  whole  character  of  her 
life. 

The  question  of  one's  accountability  for  others 
is  rarely  an  edifying  subject  of  meditation. 


[45] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   FOUR 

"  ~T~T  isn't  so  easy  to  say  airy  nothings  to  an 
artist,  when  you  know  him  behind  the 

-*-  scenes,""  Beatrix  said,  suddenly  shifting 
the  talk  back  to  the  point  of  departure. 

"  Talk  philosophy,  then,"  Bobby  returned. 

"  But  I  must  say  something  to  him,  after  he 
gets  through  singing ;  and  now  that  I  have  seen 
him,  three  or  four  times,  I  can't  launch  into  a  sea 
of  platitudes." 

"  I  thought  women  could  always  go  to  sea  in  a 
platitude.  It  is  as  leaky  as  a  sieve,  and  not  half 
so  likely  to  upset  and  leave  one  floating  without 
any  support  at  all." 

Sally  laughed  outright. 

"  Beware  of  Bobby,  when  he  turns  metaphor 
ical  !  He  suggests  a  second-hand  curio  shop." 

Lorimer  glanced  up  at  her,  with  a  whimsical 
smile  twisting  his  lips. 

"  Your  own   rhetoric    is  n't    above    reproach, 

Miss  Van  Osdel.     But  has  it  ever  occurred  to  you 

that  Young  America  has  abandoned  its  sieve  for 

a  man    of   war?     I    met   a   callow  junior   from 

[46] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Harvard,  the  other  day,  and  by  way  of  making 
polite  conversation,  I  asked  him  to  suggest  a 
clever  subject  for  a  debate.  He  promptly  told 
me  that  at  his  eating  club  they  had  been  dis 
cussing  the  origins  of  morality."" 

Bobby  whistled,  to  the  huge  delight  of  the 
butler.  That  factotum  revelled  in  the  pranks 
of  "  Master  Bobby  "  who  had  upset  his  dignity 
at  least  once  a  week  for  the  past  fifteen  years. 

"  In  our  time  we  took  our  pleasures  less  sadly, 
Lorimer.  What  are  we  all  coming  to  ?  " 

"  To  congenital  senility." 

"  That  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  frugal 
trick  of  making  both  ends  meet,"  Sally  inter 
polated. 

"But  what  shall  I  say  to  Mr.  Thayer?" 
Beatrix  reiterated. 

"  That  it  is  a  pleasant  evening." 

"  That  you  hope  he  is  n't  very  tired  with  sing 
ing  so  much,"  Bobby  and  Sally  suggested  in  the 
same  breath. 

Beatrix  made  a  little  gesture  of  scorn. 

"  It  is  your  turn,  Mr.  Lorimer.  You  know 
him  better  than  the  rest  of  us.  What  shall  you 
say  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  know  him  so  well  that  I  rarely  talk  to  him 
about  his  singing,"  Lorimer  replied,  with  sudden 
[47] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


gravity.  "  Thayer  is  too  large  a  man  to  smack 
his  lips  over  sugar-plums.  He  knows  exactly 
what  I  think  of  his  voice,  that  it  is  one  of  the 
best  baritone  voices  I  have  ever  heard.  He  also 
knows  that  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  the  fact 
when  he  sings  unusually  badly  or  unusually  well. 
Under  those  conditions,  there  is  no  especial  need 
of  our  discussing  the  matter.  One  can  have 
resei'vations  with  one's  friends,  you  know."  As 
he  spoke,  his  eyes  met  those  of  Beatrix,  and  a 
smile  lighted  his  gravity. 

At  a  first  glance,  Sidney  Lorimer  produced  the 
impression  of  being  a  remarkably  handsome  man. 
The  second  glance,  while  it  strengthened  the  im 
pression,  nevertheless  set  one  wondering  what  had 
created  it.  His  figure,  his  features,  his  coloring 
were  all  good,  yet  they  were  in  no  way  remark 
able.  A  wiry,  nervous,  clean-cut  man,  with 
brown  hair  and  eyes,  a  slim,  straight  nose,  and  a 
well-set  head,  he  would  have  commanded  little 
attention  had  it  not  been  for  the  nameless  stamp 
set  upon  him  by  his  training  at  an  English  public- 
school.  It  is  impossible  to  analyze  this  stamp, 
yet  it  exists  and  insists  upon  recognition.  Politk 
cal  life  had  called  the  elder  Lorimer  to  England, 
and  he  had  judged  it  better  to  take  his  only  child 
with  him  and  drop  him  into  Eton  than  to  leave 
[48] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


him  in  America  and  send  him  to  St.  Paul's.  He 
did  it  as  a  matter  of  convenience,  not  of  theory  ; 
but  when  his  boy  was  ready  for  a  Yale  diploma, 
the  father  confessed  to  himself  that  he  was  pleased 
with  the  result  of  the  experiment.  Young 
Lorimer  would  never  be  an  important  factor  in 
the  world's  development  ;  but  he  was  an  uncom 
monly  attractive  fellow,  and  could  hold  his  own  in 
any  position  where  chance  would  be  likely  to 
place  him.  Only  his  lower  lip  betrayed  the  fact 
that  his  mother  had  been  a  woman  of  uncurbed 
nerves. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  twentieth,  and  Lorimer 
was  distinctly  nervous.  He  liked  Arlt  and  was 
anxious  for  his  success ;  but  his  anxiety  for  Arlt 
was  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  that  which  he 
felt  for  Thayer,  to  whom  he  gave  the  adoration 
that  a  weak  man  sometimes  offers  to  one  im 
measurably  his  superior.  Probably  Lorimer's 
whole  life  would  contain  no  better  year  than  the 
one  he  had  spent  with  Thayer  in  Berlin.  Thayer's 
influence  was  strongly  good,  and  Lorimer  was  of 
plastic  material.  It  is  doubtful  whether  Lorimer 
realized  this  influence  ;  yet  he  was  genuinely  de 
lighted  to  have  Thayer  within  easy  reach  once 
more,  genuinely  wishful  to  have  Thayer's  Ameri 
can  debut  such  an  unqualified  success  that 
4  [49] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


hereafter  he  would  regard  New  York  as  his  pro 
fessional  home. 

Lorimer  rarely  was  garrulous ;  he  was  unusu 
ally  silent  during  the  long  drive  to  the  Lloyd 
Avalons's.  It  was  his  first  introduction  to  the 
pseudo-fashionable  world,  for  his  own  family  had 
been  of  conservative  stock,  and  Beatrix  and  Bobby 
had  been  the  first  of  the  Danes  to  break  down 
the  barriers  of  their  own  exclusive  set.  To  be 
sure,  he  realized  that  in  a  city  like  New  York  it 
was  quite  possible  for  circles  of  equal  choiceness 
to  exist  tangent  to  each  other,  yet  in  mutual 
ignorance  of  one  another ;  but  his  years  abroad 
in  slower-moving  countries  had  not  prepared  him 
for  the  countless  agile  performers  clambering  up 
and  down  over  the  social  trapeze.  In  his  father's 
day,  society  had  stood  on  an  elevated  platform 
and  watched  the  performers  as  they  played  leap 
frog  on  the  ground.  The  performers  had  been 
as  agile  then  as  now  ;  but  their  agility  had  been 
free  from  any  danger  of  a  tumble.  Between  the 
ground  and  the  platform,  there  is  no  place  of 
permanent  rest.  One  must  keep  moving,  or  else 
be  pushed  to  the  ground. 

As  a  rule,  people  forgot  that  there  was  a  Mr. 
Lloyd  Avalons.  He  was  a  little  man  with  an 
imperial,  and  a  total  incapacity  for  telling  the 
[50] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


truth.  In  that,  he  was  inferior  to  his  wife  in 
point  of  social  evolution,  for  she  had  learned, 
from  certain  episodes  which  still  filled  her  with 
mortification,  that  fibbing  was  bad  form.  To 
Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons,  her  husband  was  a  mere 
cipher.  Placed  before  her,  he  added  nothing  to 
her  value  ;  placed  after  and  in  the  background,  he 
multiplied  her  importance  tenfold.  There  were 
certain  privileges  accruing  to  a  woman  with  a 
husband,  certain  immunities  that  followed  in  the 
train  of  matrimony.  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  was 
quite  willing  to  include  the  word  obey  in  the 
marriage  service ;  she  had  a  distinct  choice  in 
regard  to  whom  it  should  refer. 

To-night,  Lloyd  Avalons  stood  slightly  in  the 
rear  of  the  elbow  of  his  wife  who,  resplendent  in 
pale  gray  velvet  and  emeralds,  was  welcoming  her 
guests  on  the  threshold  of  the  music-room.  Her 
gray  eyes  were  shining  with  a  greenish  light  that 
matched  the  emeralds,  for  her  lips  were  set  in  a 
conventional  smile,  and  there  must  be  some  escape 
for  her  delight,  as  she  counted  over  the  tale  of 
guests  and  recognized  individuals  of  many  a 
named  species  from  the  garden  of  society.  All 
in  all,  this  was  the  best  success  she  had  as  yet 
attained. 

She  greeted  Beatrix  effusively,  and  cast  a  coy 
[51] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


glance  at  Lorimer  while  she  murmured  a  few 
words  of  congratulation.  Then  she  fell  a  victim 
to  one  of  Bobby 's  quibbles,  and  while  she  was 
struggling  to  see  the  point  of  his  joke,  the  others 
made  their  escape. 

"  At  least,  the  architect  knew  what  he  was 
about,"  Lorimer  remarked  to  Beatrix,  as  they 
took  their  seats.  "  Thayer  can't  complain  of  the 
acoustic  effects  of  the  place.1' 

"  When  have  you  seen  him  ?" 

"  Just  before  dinner.  He  was  in  superb  voice 
then,  and  a  fairly  good  mood." 

"  Is  n't  he  always  ? "  she  questioned  idly,  as 
she  nodded  to  an  acquaintance  in  the  next  row 
of  chairs. 

"  Not  always.  As  a  rule,  he  is  the  best- 
tempered  fellow  in  the  world.  Once  in  a  while, 
though,  he  wraps  himself  up  in  his  dignity  and 
stalks  about  like  an  Indian  brave  in  his  best 
Navajo  blanket.  Nobody  ever  knows  what  is 
the  reason,  nor  when  he  will  go  off  into  a  Mood. 
It  makes  him  an  uncertain  quantity.  For  my 
part,  I  would  rather  a  man  would  swear  and 
get  it  over  with."  Lorimer  spoke  easily.  Unlike 
Thayer,  he  never  collided  with  the  angles  of  his 
own  temperament. 

"  What  does  it  do  to  his  singing  ?  " 
[52] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Depends  on  one's  taste.  I  like  it.  myself,  as 
I  like  a  high-flavored  cheese.  People  who  pin 
their  faith  to  Mendelssohn  might  be  a  little  over 
powered.  Fact  is,  there  is  a  strange  streak  in 
Thayer's  make-up.  I  can't  account  for  him  at 
all.11 

"  What  is  the  use  of  trying  ?  Are  n't  one's 
friends  immune  from  analysis  ? " 

"  I  don't  care  to  try.  I  don't  want  to  account 
for  him  ;  he  is  too  large  for  that.  I  wish  you 
might  know  him  ;  but  you  never  will.  He 's  not 
a  woman's  man  in  the  least." 

Beatrix  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Involuntarily 
she  was  making  a  swift  comparison  of  the  way 
in  which  the  two  men  spoke  of  each  other. 
Lorimer's  praise  had  been  full  of  half-suppressed 
reservations.  Thayer  had  made  no  reservations, 
he  had  scarcely  uttered  a  word  of  praise,  yet  his 
hastily-drawn  picture  of  Lorimer's  connection 
with  the  Arlts  had  proved  a  determining  factor 
in  her  life.  It  had  been  a  new  phase  of  Lorimer's 
character  which  Thayer  had  presented.  It  had 
revealed  him  in  a  new  light  and  one  infinitely 
more  likable  than  any  she  had  yet  known.  The 
Lorimer  she  had  met,  had  been  fascinating  and 
a  bit  snobbish.  The  friend  of  the  Arlts  was 
altogether  lovable.  It  takes  greater  tact  and 
[53] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


staying  power  to  make  friends  outside  one's  social 
grade  than  in  it.  People  suspect  the  motives  of 
those  who  are  crossing  the  boundaries  between 
caste  and  caste;  yet  the  Arlts  had  trusted  Lorimer 
completely. 

Beatrix  had  remained  thoughtful  for  some  time 
after  Thayer's  departure.  Lorimer  had  called, 
that  same  night.  His  coming  had  been  unex 
pected  ;  it  had  taken  Beatrix  off  her  guard.  She 
had  been  unfeignedly  glad  to  see  him,  for  his  ten- 
days'  absence  from  her  life  had  been  unprec 
edented  in  their  acquaintance.  The  world  is 
wide,  yet,  owing  to  some  strange  law  of  attraction, 
one  invariably  seems  to  meet  the  same  people 
everywhere.  Beatrix  had  greeted  Lorimer  more 
eagerly  than  she  had  been  aware.  She  had  tried 
in  vain  to  keep  the  fact  of  the  Forbes  supper 
uppermost  in  her  mind.  Instead,  it  slid  into  the 
background,  and  its  place  had  been  taken  by  the 
thought  of  Lorimer's  probable  feelings  when  he 
received  the  smoking  cap  from  the  hands  of 
Katarina  Arlt.  And  the  evening  had  hurried 
away  from  her.  When  it  had  gone,  she  had 
realized  with  a  sudden  shock  that  her  girlhood 
was  ended.  She  was  the  plighted  bride  of  Sidney 
Lorimer,  and,  distrustful  of  her  own  mental  grasp 
of  the  fact,  she  had  ruthlessly  waked  up  her 
[54] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


mother  to  tell  her  what  had  occurred.  Later, 
she  had  not  understood  the  motive  which  had  led 
her  to  her  mother's  room.  As  a  rule,  she  was 
self-reliant,  and  adjusted  herself  to  a  crisis  with 
out  caring  to  talk  it  over.  For  the  once,  how 
ever,  she  felt  the  need  of  being  strengthened  by 
the  enthusiastic  delight  of  Mrs.  Dane  whose 
sentimental  hopes  had  centered  in  Lorimer  from 
the  hour  of  his  introduction  to  her  only  child. 

All  this  had  passed  in  review  through  Beatrix's 
mind,  and  it  seemed  long  to  her  since  Lorimer's 
last  words,  when  he  said, — 

"  Don't  think  I  am  depreciating  Thayer, 
Beatrix.  He  is  one  of  the  finest  fellows  who 
ever  came  out  of  the  Creator's  hands.  In  his 
worst  moods,  he  is  away  ahead  of  most  of  the 
men  one  meets.  Some  day,  I  hope  you  may 
know  him  for  what  he  really  is." 

There  was  true  generosity  underlying  Lorimer's 
frank  words.  He  was  still  smarting  from  his 
contact  with  Thayer,  that  afternoon,  for  Thayer 
had  heard  of  a  dinner  at  the  club,  on  the  previous 
night,  and  had  spoken  a  quiet  warning.  It  was 
only  such  a  warning  as  he  had  given,  a  dozen 
times  before ;  he  knew  just  how  Lorimer  would 
resent  it,  then  accept  it,  and  it  would  have  made 
no  difference  to  him,  could  he  have  foreseen  that, 
[55] 


Tli c  Dominant  Strain 


in  his  resentment,  LorimeiAs  words  to  Beatrix 
would  be  slightly  tinged  with  aloes.  It  is  not 
certain  that,  foreseeing,  he  would  have  cared. 
Beatrix  was  nothing  to  him  ;  of  Lorimer  he  was 
strangely  fond. 

Beatrix  had  felt  some  curiosity  as  to  the  effect 
Thayer's  voice  might  have  upon  her.  Familiarity 
in  all  truth  does  breed  contempt,  and  a  second 
hearing  often  proves  a  disappointment.  For 
Lorimer1  s  sake,  she  was  anxious  to  enjoy  the 
recital,  and  she  drew  a  quick,  nervous  breath  as 
Thayer,  followed  by  Arlt,  came  striding  out  across 
the  little  stage  with  the  same  unconscious  ease 
with  which  he  had  crossed  her  parlor,  the  week 
before.  As  he  waited  for  Arlt  to  seat  himself,  he 
glanced  about  the  room,  his  practised  eye  measur 
ing  its  size  and  the  probable  nature  of  his  audi 
ence.  For  an  instant,  his  glance  rested  upon 
Beatrix  and  Lorimer,  and  he  gave  a  slight  smile 
of  recognition.  Then  his  shoulders  straightened 
and  he  came  to  attention,  as  Arlt  struck  the 
opening  chord  of  his  accompaniment. 

He  had  chosen  to  begin  his  programme,  that 
night,  with  the  Infellce  for,  in  spite  of  its  Yerdi- 
ism,  it  had  been  a  favorite  of  his  old  master  in 
Berlin.  Before  he  had  sung  a  dozen  notes,  Bea 
trix,  bending  forward,  was  listening  with  parted 
[56] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


lips  and  flushing  cheeks.  Of  Thayer  as  a  man 
who  had  dallied  with  one  of  her  cups  of  tea,  she 
took  no  account ;  but  his  voice,  sweet  and  flexi 
ble,  was  tugging  at  her  nerves  and  setting  them 
vibrating  with  its  note  of  passionate  sadness. 
Then,  gathering  power  and  intensity,  it  swept  its 
hearers  along  upon  its  furious  tempest ;  yet,  as 
she  listened,  Beatrix  felt  herself  inspired  for, 
underneath  it  all,  there  was  the  same  throbbing, 
insistent  note  which  seemed  to  assure  her  that 
the  singer  had  hoped  and  lost  and  fought  and 
conquered,  that  he  knew  all  about  it,  himself. 

Lorimer  nodded  contentedly  at  the  stage,  as 
Thayer  ended  his  song. 

"  That  "s  all  right  ;  but  they  would  better  save 
their  strength,  for  he  never  gives  an  encore  for 
the  first  number.  What  do  you  think  of  Thayer 
now,  Beatrix  ?  " 

She  caught  her  breath  sharply. 

"  That  I  should  be  a  better  woman,  if  I  could 
hear  him  sing  often.1" 

"There's  something  in  what  you  say.  He 
makes  me  feel  it,  too.  I  never  have  heard  him 
sing  better,  though  he  always  does  that  song  well. 
He  told  me  once  that  he  felt  possessed  with  the 
spirit  of  his  own  grandfather,  whenever  he  started 
it.  From  all  signs,  his  grandfather  must  have 
[57] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


been  an  intolerable  old  person  to  get  on  with,  if 
he  could  rage  in  that  fashion." 

"  Possibly  he  had  occasion."  Beatrix  forced 
herself  to  speak  lightly,  though  it  was  an  effort 
for  her  to  resume  the  accent  and  manner  which 
befitted  the  place. 

"  Perhaps.  He  was  a  Russian  musician  with  a 
young  wife.  Now  for  the  Schubert  group ! 
Thayer's  reputation  is  made,  though  ;  he  can  sing 
through  his  nose  now,  and  they  will  think  it  a 
beautiful  manifestation  of  individual  genius.  I 
only  hope  that  Arlt  will  do  one  tenth  as  well." 

It  proved  that  Arlt  did  fully  six  tenths  as  well, 
and  was  applauded  to  the  echo.  To  the  undis- 
cerning  ear,  he  won  even  more  than  his  share  of 
applause  ;  but  Beatrix,  her  nerves  still  tense  from 
The  Erl-King,  felt  a  difference  in  the  quality  of 
the  welcome  to  the  two  musicians.  The  critical 
few  were  impartial,  and  in  the  case  of  Arlt  they 
led  a  wavering  fugue  of  the  uncritical  many. 
Arlt  was  young,  small  and  insignificant.  His 
tailor  was  not  an  artist,  and  Arlt  was  too  palpably 
conscious  that  his  coat  tails  demanded  respectful 
care.  Society  applauded  Arlt  with  punctilious 
courtesy ;  but  it  promptly  took  Thayer  to  its 
bosom  and  caressed  him  with  enthusiasm. 

Late  in  the  evening,  Beatrix  brought  her  father 
[58] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


to  the  corner  where  Thayer,  with  Arlt  beside 
him,  was  still  holding  a  sort  of  court,  and  the 
four  of  them  were  talking  quietly  when  Mrs. 
Stanley  came  pushing  her  way  towards  them. 

"  I  must  add  my  word  of  congratulation,  Mr. 
Thayer,"  she  said,  as  she  graciously  offered  him 
a  pudgy  bundle  of  white  kid  fingers.  "  You 
have  made  a  wonderful  success,  and  it  won't 
be  long  before  you  have  New  York  at  your 
feet." 

Thayer  glanced  down  at  his  patent  leather 
shoes. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  deal  in  the  way,  Mrs. 
Stanley.  Let  us  hope  it  will  stay  where  it  be 
longs,""  he  answered  gravely. 

*'  How  ungrateful  you  artists  are  !  But  I  shall 
always  be  so  glad  and  proud  to  think  that  your 
first  song  in  New  York  was  in  my  house." 

"  But  it  was  n't." 

Her  face  fell. 

"  I  thought  —  Was  n't  that  your  first  recital  ? 
I  am  sure  you  said  — 

His  smile  went  no  further  than  his  lips,  for  his 
clear  gray  eyes  appeared  to  be  taking  her  mental 
and  spiritual  measure,  with  some  little  disappoint 
ment  at  the  result. 

"  It  was  my  first  recital,  Mrs.  Stanley ;  but  not 
[59] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


my  first  song.  I  sang  German  folk  songs  to  Arlt\s 
landlady,  half  the  afternoon  before.  You  re 
member  Mr.  Arlt,  I  think.11 

She  glanced  around  with  a  carelessness  which 
ignored  the  hand  that  the  boy  shyly  extended 
towards  her. 

"  Oh,  yes,  very  pleased,"  she  said  vaguely. 
Then,  with  a  resumption  of  her  former  manner, 
she  turned  back  to  Thayer.  "  And  I  thought 
you  promised  to  drop  in  for  a  cup  of  tea,  some 
Thursday,  Mr.  Thayer." 

Beatrix  was  deaf  to  his  answer.  She  had  turned 
to  Arlt  who,  scarlet  with  hurt  and  anger,  stood 
alone  in  his  corner  by  the  piano. 

"  Mr.  Arlt,11  she  said  gayly  ;  "  it  is  very  warm 
here,  and  I  know  where  they  keep  the  frappe. 
Shall  we  leave  my  father  here,  and  run  off  in 
search  of  some  goodies  ?  You  ought  to  be  hungry, 
after  playing  for  two  hours.  Come  !  " 

And  Arlt,  surprised  at  the  sudden  winning  in 
tonations  which  had  crept  into  her  voice,  dodged 
around  the  portly  back  of  Mrs.  Stanley  and  fol 
lowed  Beatrix  out  of  the  room.  For  the  moment, 
the  haughty  woman  had  changed  to  a  jovial, 
friendly  girl,  no  more  awe-inspiring  than  Katarina, 
in  spite  of  her  wonderful  gown  and  the  fluffy 
white  thing  in  her  hair  ;  and  the  artist,  in  his 
[60] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


turn,  changed  into  a  normal  hungry  boy,  as  he 
followed  her  away. 

So  absorbed  were  they  in  each  other  that  they 
failed  to  see  Bobby  Dane  who  met  them  upon 
the  threshold,  on  his  way  to  join  the  group  they 
had  just  left. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Thayer  ;  but  can  I  speak  to  you 
for  a  moment  ?  "  he  said  abruptly. 

His  uncle  turned  to  Mrs.  Stanley  with  old- 
fashioned  pomposity. 

*'  May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  taking  you  to  the 
dining-room?""  he  asked. 

"  What  is  it,  Dane  ?  "  Thayer  asked,  as  soon  as 
they  were  alone,  for  Bobby ""s  face  showed  that 
something  was  amiss. 

"It's  Lorimer  in  the  smoking-room.  That 
beast  of  a  Lloyd  Avalons  has  opened  a  perfect 
bar  in  there,  and  —  and  Lorimer  is  making  a  bit 
of  a  cad  of  himself,'11  Bobby  confessed  reluctantly. 
"  I  tried  to  get  him  away  ;  but  he  would  nnt  come, 
and  I  thought  perhaps  you  could  start  him.  It's 
not  that  he  is  drunk,  only  he  is  talking  rather 
too  much,  and  I  want  to  get  him  off  before  Bea 
trix  gets  wind  of  it.  You  know  girls  — 

"  I  know,"  Thayer  assented  gravely.  "  I  ""11  see 
what  I  can  do  with  him."" 

[61] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

"  "%  T~OU  musicians  make  me  deadly  weary," 
|  Bobby  proclaimed,  from  his  favorite 
-*-  rostrum  of  the  hearthrug. 

"Is  that  the  reason  you  are  trying  to  sit  on 
them,  Bobby  ?"  his  cousin  asked.  "You'll  find 
an  easy  chair  just  as  restful  to  you  and  a  good 
deal  more  so  to  the  musician." 

Bobby  waved  her  remark  aside. 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,  Beatrix.  I  have  things 
I  wish  to  say." 

"  Very  likely  ;  but  it  is  barely  possible  that 
somebody  else  also  may  have  things  he  wishes  to 
say,  and  can't,  because  you  talk  so  much." 

*'  Sally  is  busy  eating  bonbons,  and  Thayer 
would  much  better  wait  till  I  get  through  his 
indictment.  He  '11  need  all  his  voice  to  defend 
himself." 

Sally  glanced  up. 

"  Go  on,  Bobby,"  she  said  encouragingly.  "  The 
sooner  it  is  over,  the  better." 

"  Thank  you.  Then  I  have  the  floor.  Thayer, 
I  never  believe  in  talking  about  people  behind 
[62] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


their  backs,  so  I  look  you  squarely  in  the  eye  and 
ask  you  if  you  ever  realize  that  you  don't  amount 
to  much,  after  all." 

"  Who  told  you  ?  " 

"  Nobody.     I  evolved  it." 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  were  a  critic." 

"  I'm  not,  nor  yet  an  interpreting  artist.  I 
create." 

"  What,  I  should  like  to  know  !  "  This  was 
from  Sally. 

"Scareheads.  I  do  them.  If  that's  not  creat 
ing,  I  should  like  to  know  what  is.  They  never 
have  any  connection  with  facts." 

"  What  is  your  grievance  ? "  Thayer  asked 
languidly. 

"I  was  just  getting  to  that.  As  I  say,  I 
create.  You  only  interpret.  I  don't  know  as  it 
counts  that  you  don't  try  to  interpret  my  scare- 
heads,  though  some  of  them  would  make  stunning 
fugues.  Take  the  last  one,  for  instance:  Billions 
at  Stake:  Potato  Corner  in  Prospect.  You  could 
work  up  something  fine  from  that,  Thayer. 
Think  of  the  chest  tones  you  could  throw  into  the 
single  word  Potato !  " 

"  Bobby,  you  are  growing  discursive,"  his  cousin 
reminded  him. 

"  No  ;  it  is  only  my  rhetorical  method.  I  shall 
[63] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


bring  you  up  with  a  round  turn,  before  you  know 
it.  Well,  granted  that  we  represent  the  two 
classes,  the  creative  and  the  interpretive,  which  is 
the  greater  ?  " 

"  How  can  we  tell,  unless  you  stand  back  to 
back  ? "  Sally  inquired. 

But  by  this  time,  Bobby  was  fairly  launched. 

"The  fact  is,  you  singers  and  players  have  a 
smug  little  fashion  of  forgetting  that  there  is  a 
composer  back  of  you.  You  don't  sing  extempore, 
Thayer,  make  up  the  song  as  you  go  along. 
You  Ye  nothing  more  than  a  species  of  elocu 
tionist,  you  know,  trying  to  show  the  people  who 
were  n't  on  the  spot  what  the  composer  really  did 
when  he  created  the  thing.1" 

"  Animated  phonograph  records,  in  short  ? " 
Thayer  suggested. 

"  Yes,  if  you  choose  to  call  it  that.  Of  course 
you  count  for  something,  else  every  composer 
could  make  a  set  of  records  and  dispense  with  his 
interpreting  artist  once  for  all.  But  you  fellows 
honestly  do  make  an  awful  fuss  about  yourselves ; 
now  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Bobby  ! "  Beatrix  protested. 

"Oh,  yes;  but  I'm  not  meaning  anything 
personal,"  Bobby  responded  amicably.  "  We 
know  that  Thayer's  voice  is  beyond  all  odds  the 
[64] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


best  we  have  heard  for  a  three  years.  How  do 
you  do  it,  Thayer  ?  You  look  as  calm  as  a  Dutch 
dolly  ;  but  you  manage  to  tear  us  all  to  bits. 
Even  I  felt  sanctified  at  your  recital,  and  Miss 
Van  Osdel's  lashes  were  freighted  with  unshed 
tears." 

"  That  must  be  one  of  your  next  week's  scare- 
heads,"  she  objected.  "I  never  cry  in  public 
where  there  are  electric  lights,  Mr.  Thayer;  it's 
horribly  unbecoming  to  most  women.  But  I  did 
have  to  say  a  nonsense  rhyme  over  to  myself,  to 
keep  steady." 

"  Yes,  I  taught  you  that  trick,"  Beatrix  as 
serted  suddenly.  "  Lear  is  very  soothing  in  an 
emotional  crisis.  The  Rubtnyat  for  gooseflesh 
and  Lear  for  tears  is  my  rule.  The  Jumblies 
carried  me  safely  through  the  fifth  act  of  Cyrano. 
But  go  on,  Bobby.  We  are  nearly  ready  to 
change  the  subject." 

"  Now  take  that  recital  of  yours,"  Bobby  pur 
sued  meditatively.  "  You  were  there  to  interpret 
Schubert  and  Franz  and  those  fellows ;  but  no 
body  is  talking  about  Schubert  and  Franz,  to-day. 
It  is  all  Thayer,  Cotton  Mather  Thayer,  Baritone. 
It's  all  right  enough.  You  did  them  awfully 
well ;  but  there 's  the  Them  in  the  background, 
and  it's  not  decent  to  forget  Them." 
5  [65] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Thayer  laughed  good-naturedly.  It  was  im 
possible  to  take  offence  at  the  mock  seriousness 
of  Bobby's  harangue.  Furthermore,  it  held  its 
own  grain  of  truth,  even  though  the  grain  was 
buried  in  an  infinite  amount  of  chaff. 

"  I  do  occasionally  remember  that  there  was  a 
composer,'1''  he  suggested  ;  "  and,  in  case  of  the 
dead  ones,  you  need  somebody  to  sing  them." 

"Ye-es,"  Bobby  replied  grudgingly;  "and  in 
case  of  the  live  ones,  too,  sometimes.  I  have  an 
idea  that  you  make  a  good  deal  better  noise  out 
of  it  than  most  of  these  old  duffel's  would  do.  It 
is  only  that  you  take  all  the  glory  for  the  whole 
business.  The  newsboys  on  the  street  corners 
have  no  right  to  take  the  credit  for  my  scare- 
heads." 

"  They  are  a  self-respecting  race,  Bobby  ;  they 
don't  want  to." 

"  How  unkind  of  you,  Sally !  But  the  cases 
are  analogous.  And  my  final  point,  aside  from 
professional  jealousy,  is  the  economy  of  time. 
You  grub  longer  over  learning  to  sing  a  song 
than  it  takes  the  composer  to  write  it,  and,  when 
you're  through,  you've  only  reproduced  some 
body  else's  ideas.  Why  can't  you  be  original  ? 
Next  time  you  feel  musically  inclined,  just  say  to 
yourself,  '  Go  to,  now  !  Let  us  create  ! '  It  won't 
[66] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


take  a  bit  longer,  and  really  ifs  not  hard  to  do. 
I  know,  because,  you  see,  I  do  it." 

"  Bravo,  Bobby  !  I  am  delighted  to  hear  that 
you  ever  do  anything." 

At  the  new  voice,  Bobby  whirled  around 
and  bowed  himself  into  a  right  angle,  while 
Beatrix  rose  and  crossed  the  room  to  greet  the 
guest. 

"  Miss  Gannion  !     What  joy  to  see  you  !  " 

Thayers  Russian  blood  received  swift  impres 
sions  ;  his  Puritanism  made  him  weigh  and  meas 
ure  with  careful  deliberation.  Now,  as  he  bowed 
in  acknowledgment  of  the  introduction,  he  was 
conscious  that  in  Margaret  Gannion  he  'was  meet 
ing  a  woman  who  would  bear  either  test.  She 
seemed  to  him  one  of  the  most  strongly  individual 
women  he  had  ever  met ;  yet  at  the  same  time  he 
had  a  comfortable  sense  of  an  infinite  number  of 
points  of  mental  contact.  Later,  he  was  destined 
to  learn  that  this  sense  was  not  imparted  to  him 
self  alone.  Margaret  Gannion  was  tangent  to 
many  lives. 

"  What  is  the  discussion  ?  "  she  inquired,  as  she 
seated  herself. 

"  No  discussion  at  all,  Miss  Gannion.     Bobby 
is  doing  a  monologue  on  music,  and  the  rest  of  us 
can^t  get  a  word  in  edgewise." 
[67] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Have  you  joined  the  ranks  of  the  musicians, 
Bobby?" 

"Yes,  or  the  angels,"  Sally  responded  for  him. 
"  Nothing  else  could  have  such  a  fatal  facility  for 
harping  on  one  string." 

"  I  was  so  sorrv  to  lose  your  recital,  Mr. 
Thayer,"  Miss  Gannion  said,  after  a  while,  as  she 
turned  her  steady  brown  eyes  on  the  young  man. 
"  I  was  in  Boston,  that  week,  and  I  am  told  that 
I  missed  one  of  the  treats  of  the  season.  When 
am  I  to  have  another  chance  of  hearing  you  ?  " 

Thayer  hesitated  for  a  moment,  while  his  gray 
eyes  met  the  brown  ones  that  seemed  to  be  tak 
ing  his  mental  measure.  Apparently  both  were 
satisfied  with  what  they  saw,  for  they  exchanged  a 
smile  of  sudden  understanding.  Then  Thayers 
face  grew  grave. 

"  Whenever  you  wish,"  he  replied  quietly. 

"  Does  that  mean  you  will  sing  to  me,  myself  ? 
I  should  never  have  dared  hope  for  that." 

"  Why  not  ?  That  is,  if  you  will  let  me  bring 
Arlt  with  me.  I  dislike  to  force  him  upon  people  ; 
but  he  is  the  only  accompanist  I  really  enjoy." 

Beatrix  looked  up  with  a  laugh. 

"  You  never  asked  if  you  might  bring  him 
here,  Mr.  Thayer." 

Suddenly  he  rose. 

[68] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  May  I  take  that  as  a  hint,  Miss  Dane  ?  I 
can  play  a  few  accompaniments  after  a  fashion." 
And,  without  waiting  for  the  response  which  was 
sure  to  come,  he  crossed  the  room  to  the  piano. 

He  sang  Schubert's  Haiden  lioslein  and  an 
American  song  or  two.  The  hush  over  the  room 
deepened,  as  the  last  words  fell  on  the  stillness,  — 

"  Oh  barren  gain  !     Oh  bitter  loss  ! 
I  kiss  each  bead,  and  strive  at  last  to  learn 
To  kiss  the  cross —  " 

And,  in   the   midst  of  the  stillness,  he  rose  and 
quietly  returned  to  his  old  place  by  the  fire. 

It  was  long  before  anyone  spoke.  Then  even 
Miss  Gannion's  level  voice  jarred  upon  the  silence. 

"  You  have  a  wonderful  gift  in  your  keeping, 
Mr.  Thayer,"  was  all  she  said. 

But  Beatrix  was  silent,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
glowing  coals.  At  length  she  roused  herself  with 
an  effort.  Reverie  was  not  permissible  for  a 
hostess  on  her  reception  day.  She  came  out  of 
hers,  to  find  that  the  conversation  had  broken 
into  duets.  At  one  side  of  the  table,  Bobby  and 
Sally  were  sparring  vivaciously ;  at  the  other, 
Miss  Gannion  and  Thayer  had  fallen  into  quiet 
talk  about  certain  common  friends  and  about  the 
simplest  method  of  helping  Arlt  to  gain  the  pro 
fessional  recognition  he  deserved  and  needed. 
[69] 


The  Doviinant  Strain 


"  I  'm  not  potent  at  all,1'1  Miss  Gannion  said 
regretfully.  "  I  only  know  people  who  are,  and 
they  are  not  always  receptive  in  their  minds. 
Still,  I  may  be  able  to  do  something,  and  he  made 
a  good  impression  at  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons's  recital. 
In  the  meantime,  bring  him  to  my  home,  some 
evening  soon.  Friday  is  my  day ;  but,  if  you 
don't  mind  - 

Thayer  understood  her. 

"  Arlt  will  like  it  a  great  deal  better,  and 
so  shall  I.  He  is  a  shy  fellow,  and  he  never 
shows  at  his  best,  when  too  many  people  are 
about." 

Miss  GannioiVs  face  betrayed  her  relief.  She 
had  not  meant  to  seem  inhospitable ;  neither  had 
she  desired  apparently  to  be  scheming  for  a  free 
recital.  It  was  a  precarious  matter,  this  estab 
lishing  social  relations  with  a  really  great  artist 
who  had  just  expressed  his  willingness  to  sing  in 
private  life.  Miss  Gannion's  acquaintance  was 
large  and  of  many  lines  ;  but  Thayer  was  a  new 
species  to  her,  and  she  had  felt  somewhat  at  a 
loss  how  to  treat  him,  as  artist  or  as  mere 
man.  Thayer's  answer  inclined  her  to  the  lat 
ter  alternative. 

"What   about    Saturday,    then?"1''    she   asked. 
"  I  shall  be  at  home,  that  night/1 
[70] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Please  ask  me,  Miss  Gannion,"  Bobby  en 
treated. 

Miss  Gannion  shook  her  head. 

"No;  you  are  too  much  in  evidence,  Bobby. 
You  would  distract  my  mind  from  Mr.  Arlt,  and 
this  is  his  party,  you  know.  Even  Mr.  Thayer  is 
subordinate.  But,  Beatrix  child,  where  is  Mr. 
Lorimer  ?  I  thought  surely  I  should  find  him 
here,  to-day.  I  \e  not  congratulated  him  yet. 
That  was  one  thing  that  brought  me  here.'" 

Beatrix  flushed  a  little. 

"  Mr.  Lorimer  was  called  to  Washington,  last 
Thursday,"  she  answered  so  evenly  that  no  one 
would  have  suspected  the  wondering  annoyance 
which  his  hasty  note  of  explanation  had  caused 
her. 

"  Then  he  was  here  for  your  recital."  Miss 
Gannion  turned  back  to  Thayer  once  more. 
"  Did  n't  someone  tell  me  you  were  old  friends, 
Mr.  Thayer?  It  must  have  been  a  very  exhil 
arating  night  for  him,  this  American  debut  of 
yours." 

For  the  space  of  a  minute,  out  of  her  four 
hearers,  three  were  holding  their  breath.  Under 
the  promise  of  the  strictest  secrecy,  Bobby  had 
confided  to  Sally  the  story  of  the  scene  in  the 
smoking-room  ;  and,  like  two  conspirators,  they 
[71] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


had  spent  a  long  evening  in  stealthy  discussion  of 
the  best  way  to  keep  the  matter  from  the  ears 
of  Beatrix.  Sally  liked  Lori mer;  Bobby  detested 
him,  yet  to  neither  of  them  had  the  matter  seemed 
of  quite  sufficient  importance  to  justify  a  broken 
engagement,  and  they  were  too  well  acquainted 
with  the  strict  code  of  Beatrix  Dane  to  doubt 
what  would  be  the  outcome  of  the  affair,  if  the 
facts  were  to  reach  her  ears.  Sally  was  less 
mature,  less  aware  of  the  danger  inherent  in  the 
situation,  less  strong  in  her  condemnation  of  what 
she  termed  "  friskiness."  Bobby,  with  a  shrug  of 
his  shoulders,  admitted  that  a  man  should  not  be 
condemned  for  a  first  offence,  that  there  was 
plenty  of  time  to  watch  for  a  repetition  of  the 
affair,  to  warn  Beatrix  then  and  to  allow  her  to 
take  her  own  course  as  seemed  good  to  her. 
Meanwhile,  there  was  no  use  in  disturbing  her  for 
nothing.  It  might  be  a  single  slip,  such  as  all 
men  are  liable  to  make.  Of  course,  as  Sally 
argued,  Lorimer  had  been  under  strong  excite 
ment,  that  evening,  partly  by  reason  of  his  own 
newly-announced  engagement,  partly  by  reason  of 
the  brilliant  success  of  his  friend.  Lloyd  Avalons 
was  just  the  man  to  take  advantage  of  such  a 
situation,  and  to  think  it  a  huge  piece  of  humor 
ous  hospitality  to  throw  Lorimer  off  his  guard. 
[72] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Lloyd  Avalons  had  never  joined  the  camp  of  the 
prohibitionists,  himself,  and  he  saw  no  reason  for 
staying  the  appetites  of  his  guests.  To  his  mind, 
that  Sidney  Lorimer  could  drink  too  much  wine 
in  his  house  presupposed  a  certain  intimacy.  At 
least,  if  the  incident  were  to  be  mentioned,  their 
names  were  bound  to  be  bracketed  with  each 
other.  Like  his  wife,  Lloyd  Avalons  possessed 
his  social  ambitions. 

In  the  most  accurate  use  of  the  words,  Lorimer 
had  not  been  drunk,  only  intoxicated.  When 
Thayer,  with  Bobby  at  his  side,  had  appeared  in 
the  door  of  the  smoking-room,  Lorimer  had  been 
more  flushed,  more  garrulous  than  was  his  wont, 
more  inclined  to  the  French  doctrine  of  equality 
and  fraternity.  In  some  moods,  he  would  not 
have  tolerated  the  arm  of  Lloyd  Avalons  which 
now  rested  across  the  back  of  his  chair. 

The  scene  lasted  only  for  an  instant.  Thayer 
went  into  the  room,  accepted  a  dozen  hot  hands 
whose  owners  were  trying  rather  incoherently  to 
congratulate  him  upon  his  success,  waved  aside 
the  wine  offered  him,  and,  with  a  word  of  excuse, 
bent  down  and  spoke  quietly  to  Lorimer. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Avalons,"  he  said  shortly ; 
"  but  I  have  a  message  for  Mr.  Lorimer.  He 
is  needed  on  business,  and  I  shall  have  to  take 
[73] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


him  away.  Please  give  my  good-night  to  Mrs. 
Avalons.  My  cab  is  waiting,  and  I  can  set 
Lorimer  down  at  his  club/1  And,  with  a  bow,  he 
had  left  the  room,  with  Lorimer  sullenly  follow 
ing  at  his  heels. 

In  Lorimer\s  room,  Thayer  broke  the  silence 
which  had  lasted  during  their  drive  along  the 
brilliantly-lighted  Avenue.  He  had  watched  his 
companion's  face  keenly  and  with  an  understand 
ing  born  of  similar  scenes,  and  he  knew  it  would 
not  be  well  to  use  many  words.  However,  as  he 
was  leaving  Lorimer,  he  turned  back. 

"This  is  once  too  often,  Lorimer,"  he  said 
briefly.  "  You  Ve  somebody  besides  yourself  to 
think  of  now.  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would 
have  important  business  call  me  to  Washington, 
in  the  morning,  and  I  would  stay  down  there  for 
a  few  days.  It  will  give  you  time  to  think  things 
over,  and  find  out  just  where  you  stand." 


[74] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   SIX 

MISS  Gannion  nestled  luxuriously  back 
into  the  depths  of  her  easy  chair. 
"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Thayer,  it  is  a 
very  wonderful  experience,  this  having  a  species 
of  court  musician  ?  " 

He  laughed  the  silent  laugh  she  liked  so  well. 
It  came  from  between  close-shut  teeth ;  but  it 
lighted  his  whole  face. 

"  As  wonderful  as  it  is  to  have  a  good  listener 
who  always  understands  and  rarely  praises  ? "  he 
asked. 

Under  her  thin,  middle-aged  skin,  the  flush 
rose  to  her  cheeks,  turning  them  to  the  dainty 
likeness  of  youth. 

"  You  say  very  pleasant  things." 

"  True  ones.  If  this  keeps  on,  I  shall  begin 
using  you  as  critic  for  all  my  new  songs." 

"  Like  the   fabled   dog  ?     I  wish   you    would. 

But,   truly,    I    am    not  joking.     You   are   quite 

spoiling  me  for  my  usual  diet  of  recitals.     Do 

you  realize  that,  for  the  past  two  months,  you 

[75] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


have  sung  to  me  on  an  average  of  two  hours  a 
week?" 

Thayer  smiled  contentedly  down  at  her,  as  he 
sat  by  the  piano,  with  one  muscular  arm  thrown 
across  the  rack. 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Nothing,  except  that  people  say  you  are  re 
fusing  engagements.1' 

"  A  fellow  must  have  a  little  time  to  enjoy  his 
friends,"  he  returned  coolly.  "  I  can't  be  expected 
to  sing,  six  nights  a  week." 

"  Your  logic  betrays  your  artistic  nature.  You 
have  sung  at  five  recitals,  this  week.  This  is  the 
sixth  night ;  but  you  Ve  not  been  silent." 

"  You  know  you  wanted  to  hear  Faust  sung 
again." 

"  Yes,  and  so  did  Mrs.  Stanley  want  you  to  sing 
at  her  house." 

He  looked  up  sharply. 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  Mr.  Arlt." 

"  Arlt  should  n't  tell  tales.  But  I  had  three 
good  reasons  for  refusing :  I  don't  like  Mrs. 
Stanley ;  she  does  n't  treat  Arlt  as  well  as  she 
treats  her  pug  dog,  and  moreover  you  had  asked 
me  to  dinner.  I  never  sing  after  a  good  dinner." 

"  But  you  must  n't  refuse  engagements." 
[76] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  did  n't.      I  kept  one." 

"  Engagements  to  sing,  I  mean.  You  seem  to 
forget  that  you  are  a  star." 

"  All  the  more  reason  I  should  stop  twinkling 
now  and  then.  I  can't  be  on  duty,  the  whole 
time.  Besides,  Miss  Gannion,"  he  rose  from  the 
piano  and  came  forward  to  her  side ;  "  we  can't 
give  out,  all  the  time.  We  must  stop  occasionally 
to  take  something  in,  else  our  mental  fuel  runs 
low.  I  wonder  if  you  realize  that  this  is  the  one 
place  in  New  York  City  where  I  can  be  entirely 
off  my  guard,  entirely  at  home.  A  place  like  this 
means  a  good  deal  to  an  isolated  man." 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Most  people  forget  that  a  public  singer  has  a 
private  personality,"  he  went  on  thoughtfully. 
"  We  are  supposed  to  divide  our  time  into  even 
thirds,  practising,  singing  and  receiving  compli 
ments.  It  gets  to  be  a  positive  delight  to  discuss 
the  weather  and  the  fashion  in  neckties." 

"  And  to  sing  by  the  hour  for  your  friends  ? " 
she  inquired. 

"  It  is  our  easiest  way  of  speaking  to  them." 

She  laughed. 

"  But,  on  the  other  hand,  you  are  demoralizing 
me  completely.  You  have  no  idea  what  empty, 
formal  affairs  recitals  seem  to  me  now ;  they  are 
[77] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


so  impersonal.  I  feel  like  grumbling,  because  I 
can't  talk  over  each  item  of  the  programme  with 
the  one  who  does  it.  I  said  something  of  the  sort 
to  Miss  Dane,  the  other  day  ;  but  she  told  me 
she  always  dreaded  the  sound  of  a  speaking  voice 
after  one  of  your  songs." 

"  She  might  have  a  species  of  choral  service 
evolved  for  social  use,"1  Thayer  suggested  dryly. 
"  The  Gregorian  tones  would  lend  dignity  even  to 
conventionalities,  and  they  are  quite  within  the 
powers  of  any  amateur." 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence  which  Miss 
Gannion  employed  in  bringing  herself  back  to  the 
physical  world  around  her.  Thayer's  singing 
always  swayed  her  profoundly  ;  it  gave  her  the 
impression  of  the  ultimate  satisfaction  of  a  wish 
which  had  haunted  her  whole  life.  During  the 
past  two  months,  she  and  Thayer  had  established 
relations  of  cordial  friendship.  They  had  met 
frequently  in  the  world  which  already  was  clam 
orous  for  Thayer's  appearing,  and  Thayer  was  a 
frequent  guest  at  Miss  Gannion's  home.  He 
always  sang  to  her ;  it  had  become  so  much  a 
matter  of  routine  that  now  he  never  waited  for  an 
invitation.  Once  seated  at  the  piano,  talking  and 
singing  by  turns,  she  allowed  him  to  follow  out 
the  bent  of  his  mood ;  but,  wherever  it  led  him, 
[78] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


she  was  always  conscious  of  the  insistent,  throb 
bing  note  which  told  her  that,  underneath  his 
self-control,  there  pulsed  a  fiery  nature  which  was 
curbed,  but  not  yet  tamed,  that  the  day  might 
come  when  the  Puritan  would  meet  the  Russian 
face  to  face,  and  the  Russian  would  be  dominant, 
if  only  for  one  brief  hour.  And  then  ?  Often  as 
she  asked  herself  the  question,  Margaret  Gannion 
never  swerved  from  her  original  answer.  In  the 
end,  the  Puritan  would  rule.  No  man  could  so 
dominate  others  and  fail  to  dominate  himself. 

Thayer,  meanwhile,  had  risen  and  was  thought 
fully  pacing  the  room.  Miss  Gannion  shook 
off  the  last  of  her  reverie  and  turned  to  watch 
him. 

"  What  is  it,  Mr.  Thayer  ? "  she  inquired 
suddenly. 

He  came  back  to  the  fire  and,  deliberately  mov 
ing  the  trinkets  on  the  mantel,  made  a  place  for 
his  elbow.  Then  he  hesitated,  with  his  clear, 
deep-set  eyes  resting  on  her  face. 

"  I  think  I  am  going  to  ask  your  advice,"  he 
said  slowly. 

"  Or  my  approval.  It  amounts  to  the  same 
thing  in  a  man." 

It  was  a  direct  challenge,  and  it  was  made  with 
deliberate  intention.  Accustomed  as  she  was  to 
[79] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  semi-imaginary  mental  crises  of  struggling, 
strenuous  youth,  she  yet  shrank  from  the  intent- 
ness  of  Thayer's  mood. 

He  ignored  the  challenge. 

"  No ;  it  is  advice  whether  to  act  at  all.  Later, 
when  I  have  acted,  it  will  be  time  to  demand  your 
approval." 

"  But  you  may  not  like  my  advice." 

"Very  possibly.  I  am  not  binding  myself  to 
follow  it." 

Her  color  came  again  this  time  not  altogether 
from  pleasure. 

"  Then  why  do  you  ask  it  ?  v 

"  Because  I  need  fresh  light  on  the  subject.  As 
often  as  I  go  over  it,  I  find  myself  in  a  mental 
blind  alley,  and  I  am  hoping  that,  if  I  talk  it  over 
with  you,  I  shall  clear  up  my  ideas  and  perhaps 
get  some  new  ones." 

His  tone  was  dispassionate,  yet  kindly.  With 
a  pang,  Miss  Gannion  admitted  to  herself  the 
futility  of  her  ever  hoping  to  gain  so  impersonal 
an  attitude.  She  was  intensely  feminine,  which  is 
to  say,  intensely  subjective.  Talking  to  Thayer 
in  his  present  mood  gave  her  the  feeling  that 
unexpectedly  she  had  collided  with  an  iceberg. 
Glittering  coldness  is  an  admirable  surface  to 
watch ;  but  not  an  altogether  comfortable  one 
[80] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


upon  which  to  rest.  The  touch  set  her  to  sting 
ing,  although  she  realized  that  the  sting  was  out 
of  all  proportion  to  the  touch.  She  was  silent, 
and  Thayer  went  on,  — 

"  You  know  the  people,  one  of  them  much 
better  than  I  do."" 

"Then  it  is  not  about  yourself?" 

Thayer  shook  his  head. 

"  I  rarely  ask  help  in  solving  my  own  prob 
lems,"  he  replied.  Then,  as  he  saw  her  face,  he 
suddenly  realized  that  he  had  hurt  her  in  some 
unknown  fashion.  "  That  sounds  rather  brutal," 
he  added  ;  "  but,  if  you  will  think  it  over  a  bit, 
you  will  see  it  is  wise.  I  don't  believe  in  wasting 
words,  and  there  is  no  real  use  in  talking  some 
things  over.  A  man  knows  he  can't  state  his  own 
problem  impartially  to  someone  else,  so  of  course 
he  is  n't  going  to  trust  someone  else's  solution  of 
the  problem." 

Her  smile  came  back  again. 

"  No,"  she  assented  ;  "  but  there  is  a  certain 
comfort  in  talking  things  over." 

"  Not  for  me.  If  I  have  anything  to  do,  I  grit 
my  teeth  and  do  it,  and  waste  as  little  thought 
upon  it  as  possible.  Iteration  makes  good  into  a 
bore.  It  is  best  to  let  it  alone.  And  of  bad,  the 
less  said,  the  better,  that  is,  when  it  is  a  matter 
6  [81] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


of  one's  own  personality.      But  now  I  want  to  talk 
about  Miss  Dane.1'' 

"Beatrix?" 

"Yes.  I  have  felt  anxious  about  her  lately, 
and  I  have  n't  known  whether  to  keep  still,  or  to 
speak.  It  all  seems  a  good  deal  like  meddling, 
and  I  really  know  her  so  little." 

It  was  unlike  his  usual  directness  to  wander  on 
in  this  fashion,  and  Miss  Gannion  wondered.  She 
started  to  speak ;  then  she  thought  better  of  it 
and  leaned  back  in  her  chair.  The  ticking  of  the 
clock  and  the  snapping  of  the  fire  mingled  in  a 
staccato  duet.  A  stick  burned  in  two  and  fell 
apart,  with  tiny,  torch-like  flames  dancing  on 
its  upturned  ends.  Methodically  Thayer  bent 
over  and  piled  up  the  emlxjrs.  Then  he  spoke 
again. 

"  And  so  I  thought  I  would  speak  to  you  about 
it.  You  have  known  Miss  Dane  always,  and  you 
know  New  York  and  how  it  looks  at  such  things. 
I  imagine  you  take  it  more  seriously,  here  in 
America.  It  is  serious,  God  knows,  and  yet  it 
may  not  amount  to  anything." 

Margaret  Gannion  straightened  up  and  spoke 
with  a  sudden  assumption  of  dignity  which  seemed 
to  add  inches  to  her  moral  and  physical  stature. 

"To  what  are  you  referring,  Mr.  Thayer?" 
[82] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  thought  you  knew.  I 
am  talking  about  Lorimer." 

"  What  about  him  ?  " 

Man  as  he  was,  Thayer  flinched  under  her  keen 
eyes.  All  at  once,  he  realized  that  Margaret 
Gannion  included  among  her  friends  Beatrix  Dane, 
and  that  it  was  Margaret  Ganmon's  habit  to  fight 
for  her  friends. 

"  I  had  hoped  you  would  understand  without 
my  putting  it  into  so  many  words.  Lorimer  has 
been  my  friend  for  years,  and  it  seems  rather 
beastly  to  begin  talking  him  over  ;  but  — 

"  But  ? ""  Miss  Gannion's  tone  was  as  hard  and 
ringing  as  steel. 

"  But  he  sometimes  takes  a  little  more  wine 
than  is  altogether  wise,"  Thayer  replied,  with 
brief  directness. 

Miss  Gannion  dropped  back  in  her  chair. 

"  Does  —  does  he  get  —  drunk  ?  "  she  questioned 
sharply. 

"  No.  That  is  too  strong  a  word.  He  is  im 
prudent,  foolish.  Still,  one  never  knows  what 
may  come." 

"  Poor  Beatrix !  "  Miss  Gannion  said  softly. 

Thayer  faced  her  again. 

"  Understand  me,  Miss  Gannion  ;  I  am  not 
doing  this  for  love  of  gossip.  Miss  Dane  is 
[83] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


nothing  to  me,  and  I  like  Lorimer  immensely. 
But  there  is  a  good  deal  at  stake,  and  I  am  not 
sure  how  much  I  ought  to  leave  to  chance. 
Lorimer  is  one  of  the  most  lovable  fellows  in  the 
world,  generous  and  loyal ;  but  he  is  weak.  He 
was  born  so  ;  I  fancy  it  is  in  the  blood.  If  Miss 
Dane  is  strong  enough  and  has  tact,  perhaps  she 
can  hold  him  steady.  He  can't  be  driven  an 
inch  ;  but  he  can  be  led  a  long  way." 

Miss  Gannion  brushed  her  hair  away  from  her 
face  with  an  odd,  bewildered  gesture. 

"  Wait,"  she  said  breathlessly.  "  I  love  Bea 
trix,  and  it  makes  me  slow  to  take  this  in.  How 
long  has  it  been  going  on  ?" 

Thayer's  lips  tightened. 

"  Ever  since  I  have  known  him,"  he  answered 
reluctantly. 

"  Much  ?  " 

"  No,  comparatively  little." 

"  Often  ?  " 

"  Well  —  The  lengthening  of  the  word  told 
its  own  story. 

"  Does  it  increase  ?  " 

His  expression  answered  her,  and  she  took  the 
answer  in  perfect   silence.     It  was  a  full  minute 
before  she  spoke  again  ;  but  when  she  did  speak, 
her  voice  had  the  old,  level  intonation. 
[84] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Are  you  willing  to  tell  me  just  how  far  the 
trouble  has  gone,  Mr.  Thayer?" 

"  It  is  a  hard  matter  to  measure.  Lorimer 
drinks  less  than  a  good  many  men  ;  but  it  takes 
less  to  upset  him.  In  Germany,  the  students  all 
drink,  and  he  was  with  them.  As  a  rule,  he 
stopped  in  time,  but  occasionally  he  was  a  little 
silly.  Once  or  twice  it  was  worse." 

"  How  much  worse  ? "  The  question  was 
almost  masculine  in  its  direct  brevity. 

"  I  helped  him  to  bed." 

She  compressed  her  lips.     Then,  — 

"  Go  on,"  she  said. 

"  I  can't  tell  what  happened  while  I  was  in 
Italy,  and  Lorimer  had  left  Berlin  before  I  went 
back  there,  so  I  did  n't  see  him  till  I  came  to  New 
York.  At  first,  I  thought  he  had  stopped  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  His  color  was  better,  his  hand 
steadier.  I  knew  the  temptation  was  less  here, 
and  I  hoped  he  was  so  taken  up  with  Miss  Dane 
that  he  would  n't  have  time  to  get  into  the  wrong 
set.  The  night  of  the  Lloyd  A  valorises  recital,  he 
was  not  quite  himself,  and  I  advised  him  to  go  to 
Washington  while  the  matter  blew  over." 

"  Strange  I  did  n't  hear  of  it,"  Miss  Gannion 
said  thoughtfully. 

"  Dane  and  I  saw  to  it  that  the  story  should  n't 
[85] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


get  outside  the  walls  of  the  smoking-room. 
Dane  is  a  good  fellow,  and  no  fool.  He  got  wind 
of  the  trouble  arid  came  for  me,  and  we  hurried 
Lorimer  away  as  fast  as  possible.  The  next  day, 
I  began  to  hear  of  a  supper  or  two  where  Lorimer 
had  been  making  himself  a  bit  conspicuous." 

"  And  since  then  ?  " 

"  Only  twice." 

"  But  twice  is  more  than  enough." 

"  It  shows  that  the  trouble  is  still  there,  that 
one  can't  count  on  his  promises,1''  Thayer  as 
sented  gravely. 

"  He  does  promise  ?  " 

"Yes,  like  a  child.  That  is  the  pitiful  part  of 
it,  pitiful  and  yet  exasperating.  He  admits  his 
own  weakness,  and  is  sorry  and  ashamed,  as  soon 
as  he  comes  to  himself.  For  a  time,  he  is  a  model 
of  caution  and  sobriety.  Then  he  blunders  into 
the  way  of  temptation  and  makes  a  mess  of  it  all." 
Unconsciously  Thayer\s  voice  betrayed  his  dislike 
of  a  \veakncss  of  which  he  had  no  comprehension. 
An  instant  later,  he  seemed  to  realize  his  own 
self-betrayal  and  he  pulled  himself  up  sharply. 
"  I  wish  you  knew  Lorimer  better,  Miss  Gannion. 
Then  you  would  understand  why  I  am  telling  you 
all  this.  He  is  so  loyal,  so  generous  to  his  friends, 
so  full  of  talent.  At  Gottingen,  they  called  him 
[86] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  most  brilliant  American  who  had  ever  studied 
there,  and  he  was  by  all  odds  the  most  popular  fel 
low  of  his  time.  His  very  popularity  increased 
the  danger."  As  if  he  had  been  pleading  his  own 
cause,  Thayer's  voice  was  full  of  earnest  eagerness. 
Even  in  the  midst  of  her  anxiety  and  pain,  Miss 
Gannion  felt  the  power  of  its  flexible  modulation  ; 
and  her  half-formulated  condemnation  of  Lorimer 
stayed  itself. 

Thayer  broke  the  silence  which  followed,  and 
his  accent  was  resonant  again. 

"  There  ''s  no  especial  use  in  thrashing  over 
the  past.  The  present  is  none  too  good ; 
but  my  question  is  simply  in  relation  to  the 
future."" 

"  And  the  question  is  ?  "  Miss  Gannion  asked. 

"  Whether  we  ought  to  tell  Miss  Dane,""  he 
answered  briefly. 

"  It  will  kill  her."  The  feminine  in  Margaret 
Gannion  was  uppermost  once  more. 

"  Such  wounds  are  more  likely  to  mangle  than 
to  kill."  Thayer  spoke  grimly. 

"  Poor  Beatrix  ! " 

"  She  does  love  him,  then  ?  I  did  n't  see  how 
she  could  help  it." 

Margaret  Gannion's  hands  shut  on  a  fold  of 
her  skirt. 

[87] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  She  loves  him  better  than  she  loves  her  life  ; 
but  she  loves  right  better  than  either."" 

"  And  what  is  right  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure,11  she  confessed  weakly.  "  I  can't 
seem  to  analyze  it  at  all.  What  do  you  think  ?  11 

"  That  she  ought  to  be  told." 

"  What  good  will  it  do  ? " 

"  At  least,  it  will  put  her  on  her  guard.11 

"  Against  what  ?  From  your  own  showing,  it 
is  like  fighting  an  unseen  enemy.  One  never 
knows  when  or  where  it  will  come.  She  will  only 
be  put  under  a  terrible  nervous  strain,  faced  by  a 
fear  that  will  haunt  her,  day  and  night.  Besides, 
she  might  break  the  engagement.  Have  you 
thought  of  that  ?  " 

"  It  was  of  that  I  was  thinking.  She  ought  to 
have  the  facts,  and  be  allowed  to  face  the  alter 
natives  before  it  is  too  late.  Miss  Gannion,11  he 
turned  upon  her  sharply  ;  "  can't  you  realize  the 
pain  it  is  to  me  to  be  saying  this  ?  I  love  Lori- 
mer,  love  him  as  one  man  rarely  loves  another. 
Perhaps  I  love  him  all  the  more  for  his  lack  of 
strength.  But  that  is  no  reason  I  should  let  him 
make  havoc  of  a  girl's  whole  life,  perhaps  of  other 
lives  to  come.  Miss  Dane  loves  him ;  moreover, 
she  is  very  proud.  She  is  bound  to  suffer  keenly 
on  both  scores.1' 

[88] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Then  you  think  — 

"  That  the  trouble  is  likely  to  increase.'''' 

"  And,  if  she  breaks  her  engagement  to  him  ? " 

"  That  it  will  increase  all  the  faster.  She  has 
a  strong  hold  on  him." 

"  And  you  would  run  the  risk  of  loosing  this 
hold,  when  you  know  the  danger  to  your  friend  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  I  see  the  danger  to  Miss  Dane." 

Miss  Gannion's  hands  unclasped,  and  she  looked 
up  at  him  with  the  pitiful,  drooping  lips  of  a 
frightened  child.  Like  Thayer,  she  too  loved 
Lorimer. 

"  It  is  terrible,  Mr.  Thayer.  I  can  see  no  way 
out  of  the  trouble  ;  it  stands  on  either  side  of  the 
path.  But  do  you  think  she  could  hold  him,  if 
she  were  to  try  ?" 

"  It  is  an  open  question.  Lorimer  is  weak  ; 
but  I  am  not  sure  how  strong  she  is,  nor  how 
patient.  If  she  could  steady  him  and  forgive  him 
ninety-nine  times,  it  is  possible  that,  on  the  hun 
dredth,  she  would  have  nothing  to  forgive.  But 
that  is  asking  too  much  of  a  woman,  that  she 
should  sacrifice  her  pride  and  her  hope  to  her 
loyalty  and  her  love." 

"  I  think  Beatrix  would  do  it." 

"  Perhaps.     At    least,     though,  she  ought  to 
have  the  right  to  choose  for  herself." 
[89] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Once  more  Miss  Gannion  mastered  herself. 

"  I  am  not  sure.  You  make  the  alternatives 
certain  ruin  and  possible  salvation.  I  should 
cling  to  the  chance." 

"And  take  the  responsibility  of  silence  P  " 

"  It  is  a  responsibility  ;  but  I  should  assume  it 
for  the  present.  What  we  should  say  to  her 
could  never  be  unsaid.  •  It  might  do  good  ;  it 
might  do  terrible  harm.  It  is  possible  that  the 
truth  may  come  to  her  in  some  other  way.  I 
should  certainly  prefer  that  it  might." 

He  bent  over  the  fire  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
straightened  up  and  threw  back  his  shoulders, 
like  a  man  relieved  of  the  burden  of  a  heavy  load. 

"  Then  that  is  your  final  advice  ?  "  he  asked 
slowly. 

She  made  answer  just  as  slowly,  — 

"  Mr.  Thayer,  I  am  growing  older  than  I  used 
to  be,  and  things  don't  look  quite  so  plain  to  me 
as  they  did  once.  Motives  mix  themselves  more, 
and  I  am  not  so  ready  to  put  my  finger  on  my 
neighbor's  nerve.  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  — 
rather  think  I  should  say  my  prayers,  and  then 
wait." 


[90] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

"~¥~    BELIEVE   I    should    hate    to  have    Mr. 
Thayer  fall  in   love  with   me,"   Sally  ob- 

-*-    served  thoughtfully. 

"  I  would  n't  worry  about  it  yet,"  Bobby  said 
unkindly.  "  He  yawned  twice,  last  night,  while 
he  was  talking  to  you." 

Sally's  answer  was  prompt. 

"  Yes,  we  were  discussing  you." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  call  me  over  to  give  you 
some  points  ?  It  is  the  only  subject  upon  which 
I  can  speak  with  authority.  But  just  think 
what  a  lover  Thayer  would  make,  troubadouring 
around  under  windows  !  " 

Sally  counted  swiftly. 

"There  are  nineteen  families  in  our  hotel, 
Bobby,  and  thirteen  of  them  have  marriageable 
daughters.  Imagine  the  creaking  of  casements, 
when  Mr.  Thayer  warbled,  '  Open  the  window  to 
me,  Love  ! '  Troubadours  will  do  for  the  coun 
try  ;  in  town,  one  can  heed  only  the  impersonal 
strains  of  the  hurdy-gurdy.  But  really  — 

"  Yes  ?  "  Bobby's  accent  was  encouraging. 
[91] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  If  Mr.  Thayer  should  fall  in  love  and  get 
engaged,  what  could  the  girl  call  him  ?  His  name 
does  n't  lend  itself  easily  to  endearments." 

"  His  mother  ought  to  have  thought  of  that, 
when  she  named  him." 

"  It  is  a  case  of  visiting  the  father's  sins  upon 
the  child  of  the  sixth  generation.  He  is  only 
Volume  Seven  in  the  series  of  Cotton  Mathers." 

Bobby  plunged  his  fists  into  his  pockets. 

"  That  is  a  respectable  custom  ;  but  a  mighty 
stupid  one.  A  fellow  ought  n't  to  be  labelled  like 
one  of  a  class.  Might  as  well  catalogue  children, 
and  done  with  it,  Alpha,  Beta,  Gamma,  and  so  on 
through  the  list  of  Thayers.  Then,  when  he  came 
to  years  of  discretion,  he  could  pick  for  himself. 
Do  you  suppose  I  would  have  been  Bobby,  if  I 
had  been  consulted  ?  " 

"  What  then  ?  "  Beatrix  asked,  pausing  in  her 
talk  with  Lorimer. 

"  Demosthenes  Alphonso,  of  course.  That 's 
something  worth  while." 

"Demosthenes  Alphonso  Dane.  D.  A.  D." 
Sally  commented  irrepressibly.  Then  she  swept 
across  the  room  and,  parting  the  curtains,  peeped 
out  between  them.  "  Beatrix,  the  Philistines  be 
upon  you !  Here  comes  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons. 
Oh,  why  was  I  the  first  to  come  ?  As  a  rule,  I 
[92] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


believe  in  the  rotation  of  callers  as  implicitly  as 
I  do  in  the  rotation  of  crops.  Bobby,  you  came 
next.  How  long  do  you  mean  to  stay  ?  " 

"  Till  the  almonds  are  gone,  or  till  Beatrix 
turns  me  out,"  he  replied  imperturbably. 

"  All  right.  Give  me  five  minutes1  warning. 
You  can  twirl  your  thumbs,  when  it  is  time  for 
me  to  start ;  but  I  am  bound  to  see  some  of  the 
fun." 

"  Now,  children,  you  must  be  good,"  Beatrix 
implored  them  hurriedly.  "  Bobby,  do  try  to 
talk  about  something  she  can  understand." 

"  If  you  want  to  condemn  me  to  the  conversa 
tional  limits  of  a  mummy,  say  so  in  plain  Saxon," 
he  retorted.  "  How  can  I  talk  about  something 
that  does  n't  exist  ? " 

"  Bobby  ! "  Sally's  tone  was  full  of  warning, 
as  Beatrix  rose  to  meet  her  guest. 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  had  gained  one  distinct 
point  in  her  social  training.  She  had  learned  to 
cross  a  room  as  if  she  were  doing  her  hostess  a 
favor  by  appearing.  Even  Beatrix  was  impressed 
by  the  swift,  dainty  sweep  with  which  she  came 
forward,  and  she  cast  a  hasty  thought  to  the 
quality  of  her  tea.  Bobby,  meanwhile,  was  taking 
mental  stock  of  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons's  tailor  and 
deciding  that  he  could  give  points  to  his  own  fel- 
[93] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


low.  For  a  person  who  professed  to  ignore  all 
such  detail,  Bobby  Dane  was  singularly  critical  of 
feminine  dress,  as  Beatrix  had  learned  to  her  cost. 

Seated  by  the  tea-table,  balancing  a  Sevres  cup 
in  her  hand,  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  appeared  to  be 
casting  about  in  her  mind  for  a  subject  of  conver 
sation.  Bobby  came  to  her  relief. 

"  When  you  appeared,  Mrs.  Avalons,  we  were 
just  speaking  of  mummies.  Have  you  seen  the 
latest  importation  at  the  Metropolitan?" 

"  Mr.  Dane  !  "  she  remonstrated  hastily.  "  Do 
you  suppose  I  — 

"  Certainly,"  Bobby  assured  her  gravely.  "  I 
often  spend  an  hour  looking  at  them,  and  I  always 
feel  the  better  for  the  time  passed  in  their  society. 
They  remind  me  of  the  futility  of  earthly  things, 
and  inspire  me  to  higher  aims."" 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  smiled  faintly. 

"You  literary  people  have  strange  thoughts," 
she  observed,  addressing  the  room  at  large.  "  I 
have  often  thought  I  should  like  to  write,  if  I  only 
had  the  time." 

"Why  don't  you?"  Bobby  inquired  blandly. 
"The  result  would  be  sure  to  be  interesting." 

But  Beatrix  interposed. 

"  Are  you  as  busy  as  ever,  Mrs.  Avalons  ?  " 

"  Busier.  It  is  such  a  bore  to  be  in  this  per- 
[94] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


petual  rush  ;  but  I  can't  seem  to  help  it.  Lent 
did  n't  bring  me  any  rest,  this  year ;  and,  now 
that  Easter  is  over,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  are 
more  gay  than  ever.11 

"  That  is  the  penalty  of  having  an  early  Easter," 
Sally  suggested.  "  We  had  to  stop  for  Lent  in 
the  middle  of  the  season,  and  now  we  are  finishing 
up  the  sins  of  which  we  have  already  repented." 

« Oh  —  yes,"  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  responded 
blankly. 

"  Can  you  get  all  your  arrears  of  penitence  done 
up  in  six  weeks,  Sally  ? "  Bobby  asked,  as  he 
passed  her  the  almonds. 

"  Yes,  if  I  Ve  not  seen  too  much  of  you,"  she 
returned.  "  Mi's.  Avalons,  when  are  you  going  to 
give  us  another  recital  ?" 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  rose  to  the  cast. 

"  Was  n't  that  a  success  ?  Mr.  Thayer  quite 
covered  himself  with  glory." 

"  His  mantle  fell  over  some  of  the  rest  of  us, 
and  we  gained  lustre  from  his  glory."  Sally's 
tone  was  slightly  malicious. 

"  He  is  certainly  a  great  artist,  and  I  am  proud 
to  have  discovered  him." 

"  But  I  thought  Mrs.  Stanley  discovered  him. 
He  sang  for  her  first." 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  straightened  in  her  chair. 
[95] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


She  had  no  intention  of  allowing  to  Mrs.  Stanley 
the  prestige  which  belonged  to  herself.  Mrs. 
Stanley  was  several  rounds  farther  up  the  social 
ladder  than  she  was,  herself;  but  Mrs.  Stanley 
lacked  initiative  and  was  rapidly  losing  her  start. 
In  the  seasons  to  come,  she  would  find  herself 
playing  the  part  of  understudy  to  Mrs.  Lloyd 
Avalons. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Stanley  heard  he  was  to  sing  for  me, 
and  she  cabled  across  to  him  to  take  an  earlier 
steamer  and  sing  for  her  first.  It  was  a  little 
tricky.  What  is  it  you  call  it  in  the  business 
world,  Mr.  Dane  ?  " 

"  A  corner  in  Cotton,"  Bobby  replied  gravely. 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  thought  she  could  see  that 
the  point  of  this  joke  was  directed  against  Mrs. 
Stanley,  and  she  laughed  rather  more  heartily 
than  good  breeding  required.  In  her  mirth,  she 
even  bent  forward  in  her  chair,  writhing  slightly 
to  and  fro,  while  her  silken  linings  hissed  like 
angry  snakes.  Suddenly  she  realized  that  she 
had  prolonged  her  mirth  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
others,  and  she  straightened  her  face  abruptly. 

"  But  I  am  so  glad  the  subject  has   come  up, 
Miss  Dane,""  she   went  on.     "  I  was   meaning  to 
ask  you   whether  you   thought  I  could   get  Mr. 
Thayer  to  sing  for  our  Fresh  Air  Fund." 
[96J 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Really,  I  have  no  idea  of  Mr.  Thayer's  en 
gagements,""  Beatrix  said  drily. 

"  But  I  thought  you  knew  him  so  well." 

Beatrix's  face  expressed  her  surprise. 

"I  know  him  as  I  know  any  number  of  people, 
Mrs.  Avalons.  That  doesn't  mean  that  Mr. 
Thayer  consults  me  in  regard  to  his  plans." 

"  Oh,  no,""  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  responded  viva 
ciously.  "  But  could  n't  you  just  say  a  good  word 
for  us  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  it  would  n't  count  for  much." 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  raised  her  brows  and  made 
a  delicate,  pushing  gesture  with  her  outspread 
palms. 

"  You  are  too  modest,  Miss  Dane.  We  all 
know  your  powers  of  persuasion,  and  we  are 
counting  on  you." 

"  Who  are  we  ?  "  Sally  inquired,  in  flat  curiosity. 

"  Mrs.  Van  Bleeker  and  Mrs.  Knickerbocker 
and  I.  We  are  the  committee,  this  year,  and  we 
are  trying  to  have  an  uncommonly  good  concert." 

"  It  must  be  very  hard  for  you  to  work  on  a 
music  committee  with  Mrs.  Van  Bleeker,"  Bobby 
suggested.  "  She  does  n't  know  a  fugue  from  a 
bass  viol,  and  she  never  hesitates  to  say  so." 

"Therein  she  differs  from  most  unmusical  peo 
ple,"  Sally  responded,  in  a  swift  aside.  "  Even 
7  [97] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


truthful  people  will  fib  valiantly,  where  music  is 
concerned,  and  go  into  raptures,  when  they  have 
hard  work  to  suppress  their  yawns.  It  was  a 
sorry  day  for  music,  when  it  became  the  fashion." 

"  How  droll  you  are,  Miss  Van  Osdel  !  "  Mrs. 
Lloyd  Avalons  was  nothing,  if  not  direct,  in  her 
personal  comments.  Then  she  answered  Bobby. 
"  Even  if  Mrs.  Van  Bleeker  is  n't  really  musical, 
it  is  a  delight  to  work  with  her,  she  is  so  very 
charming  and  so  business-like.  Strange  as  it  may 
seem,  I  actually  take  pleasure  in  our  committee 
meetings,  Mr.  Dane."" 

"  I  have  n't  the  slightest  doubt  of  it,"  Bobby 
responded,  with  unctuous  emphasis. 

"  When  is  the  concert  to  be,  Mrs.  Avalons  ? " 
Beatrix  asked  hastily,  with  a  frown  at  her  cousin 
who  stared  blandly  back  at  her. 

"  The  first  week  in  May,  if  we  can  possibly  be 
ready  for  it.  There  was  so  much,  just  before 
Lent,  that  we  postponed  it  until  after  Easter. 
Now  we  are  no  better  off,  for  every  day  is  full,  so 
we  are  delaying  it  again.  We  want  to  make  it  a 
large  affair,  don't  you  know,  something  that  will 
attract  the  swell  set  and  the  musical  people,  too." 

If  Bobby  Dane  hated  one  word  in  the  language, 
that  word  was  swell.  Accordingly,  he  glared 
haughtily  across  the  table  at  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons, 
[98] 


The  Dominant  Sti^ain 


noting,  as  he  did  so,  the  scornful  cadence  of  her 
voice  over  the  final  phrase. 

"  The  two  sets  rarely  mingle,  Mrs.  Avalons. 
Which  is  under  your  especial  care  ?  " 

Lorimer  interposed  hurriedly,  for  he  felt  the 
hostility  in  Bobby's  tone,  and  he  was  ignorant  of 
the  thickness  of  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons's  skin. 

"  Both,  I  should  say  from  the  make-up  of  your 
recital,  Mrs.  Avalons.  Society  and  art  both 
spelled  themselves  with  capital  letters,  that  night." 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so," 
she  answered,  while  her  pleasure  brought  the 
first  sincere  note  into  her  voice.  "  I  tried  to 
have  something  really  good.  But  about  this  con 
cert;  we  are  to  have  a  soprano  from  the  Metro 
politan  Opera  House,  and  possibly  a  violinist,  and 
\ve  want  Mr.  Thayer  so  much.  Do  you  suppose 
we  could  get  him  ?  " 

"  It  might  depend  a  little  upon  the  state  of 
your  finances,"  Bobby  suggested. 

"  Oh  ;  but  it  is  for  charity,  you  know." 

"Yes,  charity  is  supposed  to  be  like  molasses, 
sweet  and  cheap.  It  is  n't  very  nourishing  to  a 
professional  man,  though." 

"  But  Mr.  Thayer  is  not  poor." 

"  That  does  n't  signify  that  he  can  give  all  his 
time  for  nothing,"  Bobby  answered  rather  warmly, 
[99] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


considering  that  the  question  was  utterly  imper 
sonal.  "  If  he  sang  every  day,  all  winter,  for 
some  charity  or  other,  he  could  n't  begin  to  get 
round  in  ten  years.  There  ought  to  be  a  new 
mission  started,  a  Society  for  the  Protection  of 
Over-begged  Artists.1" 

"  But  I  am  only  asking  him  for  one  charity." 

"  That ?s  all  anybody  is  supposed  to  do.  The 
time  has  n^t  come  yet  when  you  syndicate  the  job, 
though  I  suppose  it  is  only  a  matter  of  time.'1'' 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  looked  at  him  distrustfully 
for  a  moment ;  then  she  laughed  with  a  dainty 
vagueness. 

"  You  are  so  amusing,  Mr.  Dane  !  One  never 
really  knows  whether  you  Ye  in  earnest  or  not. 
How  many  tickets  did  you  say  you  would  take  ?  " 

"  One  and  a  half,"  Sally  advised,  while  Bobby 
stared  at  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  in  speechless  dis 
gust.  "  He  will  go,  and  take  me  with  him  ;  but 
newspaper  men  are  always  admitted  at  half-rates." 

"  And  you  really  think  Mr.  Thayer  will  sing 
for  us  ?  "  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  went  on,  turning 
back  to  Beatrix.  "  It  will  be  an  advantage  to 
him,  in  a  way,  to  have  sung  under  the  auspices  of 
our  committee." 

This  time,  even  Beatrix  felt  herself  antagonized. 
Thayer  belonged  to  her  own  class,  and  her  class 
[100] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


was  scarcely  of  the  type  to  need  the  official  social 
sanction  of  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons. 

"  I  have  no  idea  at  all  in  regard  to  the  matter,1'1 
she  answered  a  little  coldly.  "  Mr.  Thayer  ap 
pears  to  me  to  be  able  to  hold  his  own,  without 
the  backing  of  any  committee.  It  simply  de 
pends  Upon  his  personal  generosity." 

"  But  it  is  such  a  worthy  object.  And  don't 
you  think  we  could  get  that  little  Arlt  to  fill  in 
with  ?  " 

"  From,  by,  in,  or  with  charity,  and  to  or  for  a 
charity  ? "  Bobby  asked  savagely. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  we  could  n't  pay  him.""  There 
was  a  falling  inflection  of  the  last  word. 

"  Then  I  should  advise  him  to  decline  charity 
altogether,"  Bobby  retorted. 

"  It  would  be  an  advantage  to  him  to  play  on 
such  a  programme,"  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  asserted, 
as  she  set  down  her  cup. 

"  It  would  also  be  an  advantage  to  him  to  get 
a  little  money,  now  and  then." 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  raised  her  brows.  They 
were  daintily-marked  brows,  and  the  expression 
suited  her  pretty,  empty  little  face. 

"  I  think  it  is  something  for  a  man  of  no  repu 
tation  at  all  to  have  a  chance  to  be  heard  in  such 
a  connection,"  she  replied  a  little  tartly. 
[101] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Ye-es.11  Bobby  rose  with  provoking  delibera 
tion.  "And  it  is  also  possible,  Mrs.  Avalons, 
that  when  we  are  thankful  even  to  be  charted  in 
Woodlawn,  Mr.  Arlfs  name  may  be  a  good  deal 
better  known  than  it  is  now.  Sally,  we  are  due 
at  the  Stuyvesants1,  and  I  think  we  must  tear 
ourselves  away.11 

Out  in  the  hall,  he  addressed  himself  to  Sally. 

"  For  social  pulleys,  give  me  three :  music, 
cheek,  and  charity,  but  the  greatest  of  these  is 
ch  —  " 

"  Charity,"  amended  Sally  promptly. 

Bobby  gloomily  pulled  himself  into  his  over 
coat. 

"  Sally,  I  abhor  that  woman,11  he  said. 


[102] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

"  "•"  F  you  once  begin,  there  11  be  no  end  to  it," 
Bobby  warned  Thayer,  when  he  announced 
his  intention  of  singing  for  the  Fresh  Air 
Fund. 

"  I  never  yet  found  anything  I  could  n't  end, 
when  I  tried,"  Thayer  returned  coolly. 

Bobby  eyed  him  askance. 

"  Ever  tackled  Mrs.  Lloyd  A  valorises  idiocy  ?  " 
he  queried. 

"  She  is  not  the  only  one." 

"  No  ;  worse  luck  !  But  what  makes  you  do 
it?" 

"  I  approve  the  charity,  and  I  happened  to 
have  a  free  night.  Moreover,  it  will  give  Arlt  a 
chance  to  accompany." 

"  But  she  won't  pay  him." 

"  No,  but  I  generally  manage  to  pay  my  own 
accompanist." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  gain  from  such  a 
thing  ?  " 

Crossing  his  knees  comfortably,  Thayer  lighted 
[103] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  pipe  he  had  been  filling,  and  took  a  tentative 
puff  or  two. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said  dubiously.  "  He 
ought  to,  but  I  can't  seem  to  discover  the  way  to 
get  on  in  this  precious  country  of  ours.  Arlt  is 
a  musician  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers ;  I  have  yet 
to  hear  a  pianist  in  the  city  to  compare  with  him. 
And  still,  nobody  manifests  the  least  interest  in 
him.1' 

Bobby  contemplated  the  tip  of  his  own  cigar, 
bending  his  brows  and  frowning  as  much  from  his 
optical  angle  as  from  his  mental  one. 

"  He  lacks  the  two  P's,"  he  said  slowly  ;  "  pull 
and  personality." 

Impatiently  Thayer  uncrossed  his  knees  and 
crossed  them  in  the  reverse  position. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  nothing  else  counts  here  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

"  Precious  little.  A  fellow  has  got  to  have 
good  lungs  for  blowing  his  own  horn,  else  he  is 
drowned  in  the  general  chorus.  That 's  the  worst 
of  music  as  a  profession  ;  personality  is  everything. 
You  must  be  perfect  or  peculiar.  The  latter 
alternative  is  the  greater  help.  If  Arlt  would 
grow  a  head  of  hair,  or  wear  a  dinner  napkin 
instead  of  a  necktie,  it  would  improve  his  chances 
wonderfully." 

[  104] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  But,  if  the  right  people  would  take  him  up  ?  " 
Thayer  suggested. 

"  They  won't ;  or,  if  they  do,  they  11  drop  him 
as  a  monkey  drops  a  hot  chestnut.  Arlt  plays 
like  an  artist;  but  he  blushes,  and  he  forgets  to 
keep  his  cuffs  in  sight.  He  is  as  unworldly  as 
he  is  conventional.  Society  does  n't  care  to  fuss 
with  him.11 

Thayer  looked  grave. 

"  I  am  having  my  own  share  of  good  times, 
Dane.  It  seems  as  if  I  ought  to  be  able  — 

Bobby  interrupted  him. 

"  You  can't.  No  man  can  hoist  his  brother 
into  success.  It  is  bound  to  be  every  man  for 
himself.  You  can  work  over  Arlt  till  the  crack 
of  doom,  and  that 's  all  the  good  it  will  do  him. 
People  will  say  '  How  noble  of  Mr.  Thayer  ! '  and 
they  will  burn  moral  tapers  about  your  feet ;  and 
meanwhile  they  11  leave  Arlt  sitting  on  the  floor 
alone  in  the  dark.11 

"  Nevertheless,  I  think  I  shall  keep  on  with  the 
experiment,11  Thayer  said  stubbornly. 

"  Good  luck  go  with  you  !  But  it  won't.  You 
can't  make  the  next  man's  reputation  ;  he  must  do 
it  for  himself.  All  art  is  bound  to  be  a  bit  selfish  ; 
but  music  is  the  worst  of  the  lot.  I  don't  mean 
composing,  of  course,  but  the  interpreting  end  of 
[105] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


it.  It  ""s  such  beastly  personal  work  ;  all  the  nooks 
and  corners  of  your  individuality  show  up  across 
the  footlights.  They  are  commented  upon,  and 
they  have  to  pass  muster.  Artistically,  you  and 
Arlt  are  as  alike  as  two  peas ;  personally,  you  are 
positive,  he  is  negative.* 

There  was  a  pause.    Then  Thayer  said  quietly,  — 
"  I  think  I   shall    sing   the    Damrosch    Danny 
Deever.     It  has  a  stunning  accompaniment." 

The  committee  of  the  Fresh  Air  Fund  concert 
showed  themselves  a  potent  trio,  and  their  concert 
became  recognized  as  the  official  finale  of  the  mus 
ical  season.  Their  meetings  had  been  fraught  with 
interest,  for  time,  place  and  programme  all  came 
under  detailed  discussion.  It  must  be  at  a  time 
neither  too  soon  after  Easter  to  collide  with  it, 
nor  too  late  to  have  a  place  in  the  season's  gayety. 
The  place  must  be  lofty  enough  to  lure  the  world 
of  fashion  ;  yet  not  so  lofty  as  to  deter  the  simpler 
folk  to  whom  the  white  and  gold  of  the  Waldorf 
ballroom  was  a  mere  name,  as  remote  from  their 
lives  as  the  Petit  Trianon.  The  programme  must 
be  classic  enough  to  satisfy  the  critic  ;  yet  tuneful 
enough  not  to  bore  the  amateur,  and  accordingly 
it  roamed  from  Brahms  to  Molloy,  and  included 
that  first  Slavonic  Dance  of  Dvorak  which  sets 
the  pulses  of  Pagan  and  Philistine  alike  to  ting- 
[106] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ling  with  a  barbarous  joy  in  the  mere  conscious 
ness  of  living.  Thayer  alone  had  refused  to  accept 
dictation  at  the  hands  of  the  committee. 

"  If  I  consent  to  sing,  I  must  choose  my  own 
songs,"  he  had  said  quietly  to  Mrs.  Lloyd  Ava- 
lons,  when  she  had  suggested  a  modern  French 
love  song  in  place  of  the  Handel  aria  he  had 
selected. 

"  Oh,  but  it  is  so  late  in  the  season,  and  every 
body  is  tired,""  she  had  urged  gayly.  "  If  we  give 
them  too  heavy  things  on  a  warm  night,  they  may 
go  to  sleep." 

"  Then  I  shall  proceed  to  wake  them  up,"  he 
replied.  "  And,  for  the  second  number,  the 
Danny  Deever,  I  think." 

"  Mr.  Thayer !  That  grewsome  thing  !  Why 
don't  you  sing  My  Desire,  if  you  are  so  anxious 
for  an  American  song  ?  " 

"  I  think  Danny  will  be  better.  Then  we  will 
consider  it  settled."  And  it  was  not  until  she  was 
out  on  the  stairs  that  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  realized 
she  had  been  defeated  and  then  dismissed  by  the 
man  whose  patroness  she  was  assuming  to  be. 

"  No  matter,"  she  reflected  ;  "  we  \e  got  to  pay 

Signora  Cantabella,  and  we  can  insist  upon  her 

singing  something  a  little  more  digestible.     Mr. 

Thayer  is  cranky  ;   but  we  get  him  and  that  little 

[107] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Arlt  for  nothing,  so  I  suppose  we  must  n't  be  too 
critical." 

For  once,  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  .showed  her  good 
sense.  In  all  truth,  beggars  should  not  be  choosers, 
whether  the  alms  be  of  bread  crusts  or  of  high 
art. 

Lorimer  dined  with  Beatrix,  that  night.  Con 
trary  to  the  custom  of  the  Danes,  they  did  not 
linger  over  the  meal ;  and,  as  soon  as  they  left  the 
table,  Beatrix  and  Lorimer  strolled  away  to  the 
conservatory  at  the  back  of  the  house.  The  yel 
low  sunset  light  was  still  gilding  the  place,  and 
through  the  wide-open  windows  the  night  breeze 
crept  in,  softly  stirring  the  heavy  palm  leaves  and 
scattering  the  scent  of  a  few  late  violets  over  all 
the  air. 

Refusing  the  seat  which  Lorimer  silently  pointed 
out  to  her,  Beatrix  paced  restlessly  up  and  down 
the  broad  middle  walk. 

"  I  think  I  am  nervous,  to-night,"  she  said,  with 
an  odd  little  laugh.  "  I  have  been  feeling,  all  day 
long,  as  if  things  were  going  to  happen." 

"Things  generally  do  happen,"  Lorimer  said 
lightly,  as  he  sauntered  along  by  her  side. 

"  Yes ;  but  something  unusual,  something 
uncanny." 

Lorimer  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 
[108] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  thought  you  derided  presentiments,  Beatrix."" 

She  bit  her  lip. 

"I  do,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  "I  know  it  is  fool 
ish,  and  I  am  ashamed  of  myself;  but  I  dread  this 
recital,  to-night,  and  I  dread  that  hateful  Lloyd 
Avalons  supper  after  it.  Let  "s  not  go,  Sidney." 

"  Oh,  but  we  must.     Why  not  ?  " 

"They  are  such  impossible  people." 

"  I  know  ;  but  everyone  will  understand  that  it 
is  on  Thayers  account  that  we  go,  Beatrix.  And 
he  made  such  a  point  of  it." 

She  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  If  we  must  —  But  I  dread  it.  Do  keep 
Mr.  Avalons  away  from  me,  then." 

As  he  looked  down  at  the  brown  head  which 
scarcely  rose  above  his  lips,  Lorimer's  smile  ceased 
to  be  whimsical  and  became  inexpressibly  tender 
and  winning. 

"  Count  on  me,  dear  girl.  He  is  a  brute  ;  but 
I  won't  let  him  go  near  you." 

Impulsively  she  turned  and  faced  him. 

"  Sidney,"  she  said,  with  a  breathless  catch  in  her 
voice  ;  "  Sidney  —  Then,  while  she  hesitated, 
she  raised  her  hands  and  rested  them  on  his  broad 
shoulders.  "  Sidney  dearest,  do  you  know  what 
it  is  to  love  as  I  love  you  ?  It  would  kill  me  to 
have  anything  come  in  between  us." 
[109] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Startled  by  her  overwrought  nerves,  he  put  his 
arm  around  her  and  drew  her  head  against  his 
shoulder. 

"  I  know  only  one  thing,  Beatrix,"  he  said 
gravely ;  "  nothing  now  can  come  between  us  but 
death." 

Diamond  aigrettes  and  critical  ears  both  were 
at  the  concert,  that  night,  mingled  with  a  fair 
sprinkling  of  those  to  whom  the  charity  appealed 
far  more  than  did  the  mere  musical  and  worldly 
phases  of  the  affair.  The  little  folded  pro 
grammes  were  in  a  way  typical  of  the  whole 
situation  :  one  page  containing  the  modest  an 
nouncement  of  the  Fresh  Air  Fund  concert,  the 
next  one  the  simple  statement  of  the  numbers  of 
the  programme,  while  the  third,  in  full-faced  type 
bore  the  majestic  list  of  patronesses.  Between 
his  German  and  Italian  fellow  artists  and  his 
polysyllabic  Dutch  sponsors,  Thayers  name  stood 
out  in  all  the  aggressiveness  of  Puritan  simplicity. 

As  a  whole,  the  concert  was  as  frothy  as  was 
the  audience.  The  songs  glittered  like  the 
diamonds,  and  the  orchestra  played  the  Valkyries' 
Ride  with  a  cheerful  abandonment  of  mirth. 

"  Thayer  is  the  only  dignified  member  of  the 
company,"  Bobby  growled  into  Sally's  ears,  as  the 
last  note  of  his  aria  died  away.  "  The  rest  of 
[110] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


them  are  doing  tricks  like  a  set  of  vaudeville 
artists.  I  expected  that  violinist  to  play  caden 
zas  with  his  violin  held  in  the  air  above  his  head. 
You  don't  catch  Thayer  dropping  into  such  trick 
work." 

"  He  does  n't  need  to  ;  he  can  *  scorn  such  a  foe ' 
to  his  heart's  content,  for  he  is  getting  the 
applause  of  the  evening.  Does  he  sing  again  ? " 

"  The  very  last  number.  It  is  an  unusual 
place,  to  wind  up  a  programme  after  the  orchestra 
is  through  ;  but  I  think  he  is  equal  to  it." 

Beatrix  felt  every  nerve  in  her  body  tingling 
and  throbbing,  when  Thayer  came  out  on  the 
stage  for  the  second  time.  As  a  whole,  the  con 
cert  had  not  been  inspiring  to  her  ;  it  had  been 
too  obviously  popular.  Yet,  at  least,  it  had 
tended  to  relax  her  strained  nerves.  Gade  con 
certos  are  a  species  of  mental  gruel,  easy  to  as 
similate  and  none  too  stimulating;  but  all  the 
innate  barbarism  of  humanity,  all  of  her  nervous 
force  responded  to  the  clashing  rhythm  of  the 
Slavonic  Dance,  and  the  swift  color  came  into  her 
face  and  focussed  itself  in  a  tiny  circle  in  either 
cheek,  as  she  listened.  For  the  moment,  she  was 
as  fiercely  defiant  of  fate  as  a  Valkyrie  flying  forth 
to  battle. 

The  mood  was  still  upon  her,  as  Thayer  came 
[111] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


striding  out  across  the  stage.  Arlt  was  beside 
him,  for  Thaver  had  refused  an  orchestral  accom 
paniment  and  had  left  Danny  Deever  in  the  hands 
of  a  pianist.  His  choice  had  been  a  wise  one  for 
Arlt.  The  two  of  them  had  spent  hours  over 
the  song,  and  the  young  German  surpassed  him 
self  in  the  swift  changes  of  motif  until,  as  he  left 
Danny's  soul  freeing  itself  from  the  swinging  body 
and  took  up  the  cheery  theme  of  the  quickstep 
once  more,  even  Thayer  was  relegated  momentarily 
to  the  background,  as  a  mere  librettist  to  the 
passionate  fury  of  the  accompaniment. 

Again  and  again  the  applause  broke  out ; 
again  and  again  Thayer  insisted  upon  leading 
Arlt  before  the  audience  to  make  his  bow ;  but 
still  the  audience  refused  to  be  satisfied.  Even 
the  most  graceful  of  bows  is  not  enough,  when 
one  is  thoroughly  aroused. 

"  Play  something,  Arlt,"  Thayer  ordered  him  at 
last. 

Arlt  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  for  you  they  are  calling." 

"  Nonsense.     This  is  your  success  ;  not  mine." 

Arlt  demurred ;  but  in  the  end  he  yielded  and 

played  one  or  two  numbers  of  Schumann's  Papil^ 

Ion,   played    them    like    a   true    artist.      As    he 

listened,  Thayer  held  his  breath.     At  last,  Arlfs 

[112] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


chance  had  come,  and  he  was  making  the  most  of 
it.  The  furore  of  a  moment  before  had  been  for 
Arlt  more  than  for  himself.  Sad  experience  had 
taught  him  the  futility  of  Danny,  unless  it  were 
adequately  accompanied,  and  the  audience  were  dis 
cerning  enough  to  give  honor  to  whom  honor  was 
due.  Standing  in  the  wings,  Thayer  exulted  in 
each  note  which  fell  from  the  boy's  fingers,  round 
and  mellow  and  weighted  with  passionate  mean 
ing.  Arlt  was  betraying  his  hopes  and  fears 
more  than  he  realized,  just  then,  and  Thayer 
grew  impatient  for  his  closing  phrase,  that  he 
might  hear  the  storm  of  applause  which  was 
bound  to  follow.  He  had  not  counted  upon  the 
veering  wind  of  popular  interest  which  scattered 
the  storm,  leaving  only  the  gentle  patter  of  a 
summer  shower.  The  critics  applauded  ;  but 
society  applied  its  lorgnette  to  its  eye  and  dis 
covered  that,  in  his  excitement,  Arlt  had  neglected 
to  make  sure  that  his  tie  was  mathematically 
straight.  The  patter  died  away  into  silence. 
Then  the  wind  veered  again  and  the  storm  broke 
out  afresh,  mingled  with  cries  of  Thayers  name. 

Arlfs  lips  worked  nervously,  as  he  joined  Thayer 
in  the  wings. 

"  It  was  you  they  wanted,  after  all,"  he  said, 
with  a  pitiful  attempt  at  a  smile. 
8  [113] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Then  they  are  damned  fools/1  Thayer  replied 
savagely ;  but  his  hand  was  gentle,  as  he  rested  it 
on  Arlt's  shoulder. 

The  boy  braced  himself  at  the  touch. 

"  We  must  go  back,"  he  said. 

Thayer  hesitated,  while  his  thoughts  worked 
swiftly.  There  would  be  a  certain  cruelty,  to  his 
mind,  in  forcing  Arlt  to  appear  again  before  the 
audience  which  had  just  cut  him  so  mercilessly. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  would  be  the  part  of 
childish  pique  for  him  to  refuse  to  show  himself. 
Nevertheless,  he  needed  Arlfs  support.  He 
disliked  to  play  his  own  accompaniments,  and  he 
felt  that,  in  doing  so,  he  risked  possible  disaster. 
The  hesitation  lasted  only  for  a  moment.  Then 
his  jaw  stiffened. 

"  It  \s  all  right,  Arlt,"  he  said  briefly.  "  I  am 
going  to  accompany  myself,  this  time." 

As  he  crossed  the  stage,  he  glanced  hastily 
from  Bobby  to  Bobby's  cousin.  Bobby  was 
glowering  at  the  audience  and  grumbling  into 
Sally's  ear.  Four  rows  in  front  of  them,  Beatrix 
sat  silent  at  Lorimer's  side.  The  color  had  left 
her  face  again,  and  her  eyes  drooped  heavily.  It 
was  as  if,  in  watching  Arlt's  overthrow,  her  old 
prescience  of  impending  disaster  had  come  back 
upon  her  in  fourfold  measure,  heightened  by  the 
[114] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


intensity  of  her  exhilaration  of  a  few  moments 
before.  When  a  quiet  woman  is  stirred  from  her 
usual  poise,  the  pendulum  of  her  nerves  swings  in 
a  long  arc.  The  Dvorak  dance  had  not  deepened 
Sally's  color  ;  the  Damrosch  song  had  not  caused 
her  to  draw  her  white  ostrich  boa  more  closely 
about  her  throat. 

Thayer  struck  a  vigorous  major  chord  or  two  ; 
then,  with  a  sudden  memory  of  the  dry  glitter  in 
Arlt's  eyes,  he  modulated  thoughtfully.  His  own 
eyes  rested  again  upon  Beatrix  during  the  few 
notes  of  the  introduction,  and  his  mind  went 
swiftly  back  to  the  day  when  he  had  sung  the 
same  little  song  in  her  parlor.  Half  absently, 
his  eyes  were  still  upon  her  face,  as  he  came  again 
to  the  closing  words,  — 

"  /  kiss  each  bead,  and  strive  at  last  to  learn 
To  kiss  the  cross,  sweetheart,  to  kiss  the  cross." 

Unconsciously,  uncontrollably,  his  eyes  held 
hers,  and  he  could  see  the  two  great  drops  gather 
there,  as  she  listened,  her  lips  parted  with  her  deep, 
swift  breathing.  Then  their  eyes  dropped  apart, 
and  the  color  rushed  into  her  cheeks  while,  with 
a  sudden,  impulsive  gesture,  she  slipped  her  hand 
into  Lorimer's  arm  and  pressed  it  until  she  felt 
the  returning,  reassuring  pressure. 

Lorimer  looked  down  at  her  with  a  smile. 
[115] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Spooky  again,  dear  girl  ? "  he  asked,  under 
cover  of  the  applause  which  had  broken  out  madly 
once  more.  "  He  is  singing  superbly,  to-night ; 
but  this  last  was  wonderful.  Something  has  rubbed 
him  the  wrong  way ;  I  know  that  set  of  his  jaw, 
and  it  always  means  that  he  will  be  inspired  to  do 
his  best.  Queer  thing  ;  is  n't  it  ?  If  I  were  angry 
or  hurt,  I  should  go  to  pieces  completely ;  but 
it  brings  Thayer  to  his  feet,  every  time."" 

"  What  do  you  think  was  the  reason  ?  "  Beatrix 
asked,  with  as  great  a  show  of  interest  as  she 
could  command.  The  first  lesson  Mrs.  Dane  had 
taught  her  child  in  preparation  for  her  coming- 
out  tea  had  been  the  simple  and  obvious  one  that 
men  were  rarely  minded  to  sympathize  with  fem 
inine  moods ;  but  that  under  all  conditions  a 
woman  who  seeks  to  please,  must  adapt  herself  to 
the  mental  vagaries  of  her  masculine  companion. 
Even  Lorimer,  tender  and  loving  as  he  invariably 
showed  himself,  was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

"  It  was  Arlt's  snubbing,'1  Lorimer  returned,  as 
he  rose.  "  It  was  a  beastly  thing  to  do.  Arlt 
played  superbly,  and  they  might  have  treated 
him  with  common  courtesy.  But  there  is  no 
accounting:  for  tastes.  Thayer  is  the  hero  of  the 

O  * 

evening,  and  people  are  too  busy  applauding  him, 
to  have  any  time  for  lesser  lights." 
[116] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Arlt  will  ever  succeed  ? " 
she  asked  anxiously  for,  through  Thayer's  efforts 
to  bring  them  together,  she  had  become  genuinely 
interested  in  the  boy. 

"  God  knows,"  Lorimer  answered,  with  a  sudden 
gravity  that  became  him  well. 

Later,  that  evening,  Thayer  joined  Lorimer 
and  Beatrix  in  a  corner  of  the  Lloyd  Avalons's 
music-room.  Beatrix  greeted  him  half  shyly. 

"  It  was  a  new  experience,""  she  said,  with  an 
effort  to  speak  lightly.  "  I  thought  I  had  learned 
to  know  your  voice  long  ago  ;  but  I  have  decided 
that  I  never  really  knew  it,  until  to-night." 

He  stood  looking  down  at  her  with  a  grave 
smile. 

"  My  voice  is  n't  always  reliable,  Miss  Dane. 
Once  in  a  while,  it  seems  to  run  away  with  me. 
To-night,  it  took  the  bits  in  its  teeth." 

She  felt  compelled  to  raise  her  eyes  to  meet  his. 

"I  hope  it  won't  do  it  too  often.  It  is  won 
derful  ;  but  —  "  Then  she  pulled  herself  together 
with  a  little  laugh.  "  It  must  be  rather  amusing 
to  you,  Mr.  Thayer,  to  watch  your  effect  on  your 
audience,  and  to  know  that  you  can  make  them 
shiver  or  cry  whenever  you  choose." 

He  refused  to  be  won  into  the  laugh  for  which 
she  hoped. 

[117] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  It  is  rft  whenever  I  choose,"  he  responded, 
with  unexpected  literalness.  "  Sometimes  I  feel 
as  if  I  were  the  victim  of  a  sort  of  possession.  I 
believe  I  have  a  demon  that  inhabits  my  vocal 
cords  upon  occasion.  If  he  does  get  hold  of  me,  I 
am  merely  a  machine  in  his  hands.  When  I  be 
come  my  own  manager  again,  I  am  never  quite  sure 
what  I  may  have  been  doing.1'1 

"  Something  very  good,  to-night.  But  where  is 
Mr.  Arlt  ? " 

Thayer's  face  darkened. 

"  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  neglected  to  invite  him," 
he  replied  quietly. 

Lorimer's  lip  curled. 

"  If  that  is  n't  beyond  the  dreams  of  snobbish 
ness,  Thayer !  Why  did  you  come  to  her  old 
party,  then  ?  " 

"  Because  I  thought  it  would  be  too  petty  to  stay 
away." 

"  I  would  be  petty,  then.  But,  as  far  as  that 
goes,  Arlt's  ancestors  were  gentlemen,  when  hers 
were  shovelling  gravel  for  a  dollar  a  day.  Ameri 
can  democracy  runs  in  strange  grooves.  Thayer, 
I  am  going  to  leave  Beatrix  in  your  care  for  a  few 
minutes.  I  promised  Ned  Carpenter  I  would  see 
him  in  the  smoking-room,  to  make  a  date  for  his 
yachting  cruise." 

[118] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Thayer  looked  after  him  with  a  certain  anxiety 
which  clouded  his  gray  eyes  and  found  a  reflection 
in  the  face  of  his  companion.  The  cloud  re 
mained,  although  their  talk  went  on  as  if  nothing 
were  amiss.  In  fact,  nothing  was  amiss ;  it  was 
only  that  their  nerves,  jarred  by  Arlt's  failure, 
were  looking  for  disaster  upon  every  hand.  For 
the  time  being,  each  bead  seemed  tipped  with  its 
cross.  Both  felt  it ;  both  were  loath  to  acknowl 
edge  the  feeling  by  so  much  as  a  look. 

Suddenly  Thayer  roused  himself. 

"  Lorimer  has  been  detained,  Miss  Dane,  and 
we  both  are  growing  hungry.  May  I  take  you  to 
the  dining-room  ?  " 

Side  by  side,  they  crossed  the  floor,  now  almost 
deserted,  and  reached  the  door  of  the  dining- 
room  whence  came  a  confused  noise  of  buzzing 
tongues  and  clattering  dishes.  Then,  above  all 
else,  Lorimer's  voice  met  their  ears,  a  merry, 
laughing  voice,  but  strangely  thick  as  regarded 
its  consonants. 

"  An1  so,  \s  I  was  shayin1,  we  wen1  to  Mory's, 
one  ni1,  an'  there  was  thish  man  — 

Some  unaccountable  impulse  made  him  raise 
his  eyes  just  then.  They  fell  full  upon  Beatrix 
standing  in  the  doorway,  with  Thayer  at  her 
side. 

[119] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


BEATRIX'S  library  was  full  of  women, 
when  Lorimer  put  in  a  tardy  appearance, 
the  day  after  the  Fresh  Air  Fund  concert. 
A  dozen  little  tables  littered  with  cards  were 
pushed  together  in  one  corner,  and  the  tinkling 
of  china  and  the  hum  of  conversation  betrayed 
the  fact  that  whist  had  given  place  to  a  more 
congenial  method  of  passing  the  time.  Modern 
womanhood  plays  whist  almost  without  ceasing ; 
but  it  should  be  noted  that  she  frowns  over 
the  whist  and  reserves  her  smiles  for  her  more 
garrulous  interludes. 

Lorimer,  as  he  stepped  across  the  threshold, 
felt  a  sudden  longing  to  retreat.  He  had  forgot 
ten  both  the  whist  and  the  interlude,  that  after 
noon,  and  he  felt  no  inclination  to  exchange 
verbal  inanities  with  a  group  of  women  of  whom 
several  had  been  at  the  Lloyd  Avalons  suppei',  the 
night  before.  All  of  them,  he  was  convinced,  had 
heard  of  the  incident,  and  were  covertly  eying 
Beatrix  to  see  whether  she  looked  as  if  she  had 
slept  well.  His  theory  was  justified  by  the  fact 
[120] 


The  Dominant   Strain 


that,  for  the  first  time  that  season,  not  a  substi 
tute  had  been  present. 

Beatrix  rose  from  the  tea  table,  as  he  crossed 
the  room  towards  her.  Her  manner  was  a  shade 
more  alert  than  usual;  but  her  eyes,  half-circled 
in  heavy  shadows,  drooped  before  his  eyes,  as  she 
gave  him  her  hand.  He  felt  her  fingers  shake  a 
little,  and  he  could  see  the  color  die  out  of  her 
cheeks.  Otherwise,  there  was  nothing  to  mark 
their  meeting  as  in  any  way  differing  from  any 
other  meeting  in  the  past.  He  greeted  the  other 
women,  accepted  his  cup  of  tea  and  took  up  his 
share  of  the  burden  of  conversation  with  apparent 
nonchalance. 

The  nonchalance  was  only  apparent,  however. 
Lorimer  had  sought  Beatrix,  that  day,  much  in 
the  mood  in  which  the  naughty  boy  turns  his 
back  to  receive  his  allotted  caning.  The  bad 
half-hour  was  bound  to  come ;  it  was  best  to  have 
it  over  as  soon  as  possible.  Lorimer  had  gone 
to  bed,  the  night  before,  in  a  state  of  maudlin 
cheeriness.  He  had  wakened,  that  morning,  feel 
ing  a  heavy  weight  in  his  head  and  a  heavier  one 
on  his  conscience.  He  had  an  unnecessarily  clear 
recollection  of  Beatrix's  face  as  it  had  looked  to 
him,  the  one  sharply-outlined  fact  across  a  misty 
distance  peopled  with  vague  shadows.  The  eyes 
[121] 


The   Dominant  Strain 


had  been  hurt  and  angry ;  but  the  lips  showed 
only  loving  disappointment.  All  the  morning 
long,  he  had  pondered  upon  the  matter;  but  by 
noon  he  had  made  his  decision.  The  meeting 
was  inevitable,  so  what  was  the  use  of  trying  to 
put  it  off? 

"  Well,  Sidney  ?  "  Beatrix  said  steadily,  as  soon 
as  the  last  guest  had  made  her  nervous,  chatter 
ing  exit. 

With  some  degree  of  care,  he  had  prepared  his 
defensive  argument ;  but  it  had  lost  all  its  force 
and  fervor  by  reason  of  the  half-hour  spent  in  the 
roomful  of  women.  Now  he  made  a  hasty  effort 
to  reconstruct  it,  and  failed. 

"  I  am  sorry,""  he  said,  with  simple  humility. 

Unconsciously,  each  had  taken  the  best  method 
to  disarm  the  other.  Before  scornful,  angry 
denunciation,  he  could  have  burst  out  into  voluble 
explanation  and  defence  which,  in  its  turn,  would 
have  antagoni/ed  Beatrix  beyond  any  possibility 
of  relenting.  For  the  unpardonable  sin,  forgive 
ness  must  be  a  free  gift.  Confronted  by  excuses, 
Beatrix  would  have  been  unyielding.  In  the  face 
of  his  humility,  she  hesitated  to  speak  the  final 
condemnation,  and  instinct  taught  her  that  femi 
nine  reproaches  were  worse  than  futile  in  the  face 
of  a  real  crisis.. 

[122] 


The  Dominant   Strain 


"  How  did  you  happen  to  do  it,  Sidney  ? "  she 
asked  quietly,  as  she  seated  herself  again  beside 
the  deserted  tea  table  and  began  absently  setting 
the  disordered  cups  into  straight  rows. 

He  raised  his  eyes  from  the  carpet. 

"  Because  I  was  a  brute,"  he  said  briefly. 

Methodically  she  sorted  out  the  spoons  in  two 
little  piles.  Then,  pushing  them  together  into 
a  disorderly  heap,  she  started  to  her  feet  and 
faced  him. 

"  Can't  you  make  any  sort  of  an  excuse  for 
yourself,  Sidney  ? "  she  demanded,  and  there  was 
a  desperate  ring  to  her  words. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  can't  see  any,"  he  replied,  after  an  interval. 
Suddenly  he  laughed  harshly.  "  Unless  you  count 
total  depravity,"  he  added. 

She  ignored  the  laugh. 

"  I  suppose  you  know,  then,  what  this  means," 
she  said  slowly,  so  slowly  that  it  seemed  as  if  each 
word  caught  in  her  throat. 

His  face  whitened  and  he  started  to  speak  ;  but 
his  voice  failed  him.  He  bowed  in  silence. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  went  on,  while  the  cords  in 

her  clasped  hands  stood  out  like  bits  of  rattan  ; 

"  perhaps   I  am   more   sorry  than  you  are ;   but 

there   seems  to  be  nothing  else  that  I  can  do. 

[123] 


The   Dominant   Strain 


Last  night  was  the  tragedy  of  my  life  ;  to-day  is 
the  hardest,  the  longest  day  I  have  ever  spent. 
But—" 

Bending  forward,  he  took  up  one  of  the  spoons 
from  the  table  and  looked  at  it  intently  for  a 
moment.  Under  his  mustache  his  lips  worked 
nervously,  and  Beatrix  saw  the  moisture  gather 
in  great  drops  upon  his  forehead.  Fortunately 
she  could  not  see  his  eyes,  for  their  long  lashes 
veiled  them.  It  was  better  so ;  she  could  hold  her 
self  more  steady.  There  was  a  certain  merciless- 
ness  in  the  way  she  waited  for  him  to  break  the 
silence. 

"  Is  it  final  ? "  he  asked  at  length.  "  I  wish 
you  would  give  me  another  chance,  Beatrix." 

"  I  have  given  you  too  many,  as  it  is,"  she 
replied  sadly. 

He  looked  up  at  her,  too  much  startled  now  to 
care  whether  or  not  she  saw  the  tell-tale  tears. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  last  night  only  confirmed  what  I  have 
been  suspecting  and  dreading."  This  time,  there 
came  the  scornful  note  he  had  so  feared. 

He  dropped  his  eyes  again,  and  accepted  the 

condemnation  in  silence.     If  she  knew  the  whole 

truth,  there  was  no  need  of  arguing  with  her  over 

the  details.     The  spoon   snapped   in   two  in  his 

[124] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


hands.     He  rose  and   tossed  the   fragments  into 
the  fire. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  Beatrix  asked. 

"  Straight  to  the  devil."  His  accent  was  hard, 
but  perfectly  quiet,  the  accent  of  a  desperate  man, 
not  of  a  reckless  boy. 

Up  to  the  last  moment,  she  had  expected  that 
he  would  seek  to  justify  himself,  would  ask  her 
to  explain  her  decision  and  to  modify  it.  This 
grim,  silent  acceptance  of  his  fate  terrified  her. 
It  seemed  to  throw  upon  her  shoulders  all  the  re 
sponsibility  of  an  action  which  in  itself  was  right, 
yet  possibly  burdened  with  consequences  dangerous 
to  another.  For  herself,  for  the  killing  of  her  own 
great  love,  Beatrix  never  wavered.  It  was  her  owrn 
affair  and  concerned  herself  alone.  But  she  knew 
that  Lorimer  loved  her,  and  all  at  once  she  realized 
that  her  sudden  rejection  of  his  love  was  bound  to 
bring  forth  bitter  fruit.  During  the  time  it  took 
him  to  cross  the  floor,  she  was  swiftly  weighing  her 
duty  to  herself  against  her  duty  to  her  neighbor. 
She  was  bound  to  send  him  away ;  but  was  she 
equally  bound  to  send  him  away  like  a  beaten  dog, 
without  a  word  of  explanation  or  of  pity  ? 

"  Sidney  ?  " 

He  had  reached  the  door  ;  but,   at  her  call,  he 
hesitated  and  looked  back. 
[125] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  You  understand  why  I  am  doing  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  bitterly  ;  "  I  understand  only 
too  well.1" 

"  And  you  think  I  am  justified  ?" 

He  faced  about  squarely. 

"  Good  God,  Beatrix,  when  you  have  stabbed  a 
man  to  death,  don't  grind  the  knife  round  and 
round,  and  ask  him  if  he  feels  it !  Let  him  make 
as  plucky  an  exit  as  he  can." 

His  words  broke  the  strain  she  had  put  upon 
herself. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  —  I  did  n't  suppose  —  "  she 
faltered.  Then  she  dropped  into  a  chair  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Lori  in  er  turned  to  the  door  again,  halted  irres 
olutely,  then  went  back  to  her  side. 

"  I  can't  go  away  and  leave  you  like  this,  dear 
girl,"  he  said,  as  he  bent  over  her.  "  It  is  n't 
going  to  be  easy  for  either  of  us  ;  it  is  bound  to 
leave  a  terrible  scar  on  our  lives.  But,  if  it  is  the 
only  thing  you  can  do  :  at  least,  can't  we  say  a 
decent  good-by  to  each  other  ?  " 

She  took  down  her  hands,  drew  a  long  breath 
and  looked  up  at  him  ;  but  she  was  unable 
to  meet  the  look  in  his  eves,  the  loving,  hun 
gry  look  which  she  had  learned  to  know  so 
well. 

[  126] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  We  have  loved  each  other,  dear  girl.  I  have 
been  better  and  stronger  for  your  love.  I  only 
wish  it  might  have  lasted,  for  in  time  it  might 
have  made  me  quite  steady.  But  I  am  glacl 
I  have  had  so  much.  Whatever  the  future  has 
for  me,  at  least  I  have  had  something  in  the 
past." 

The  hardness  had  left  his  tone,  and  the  passion 
ate,  bitter  ring.  There  was  nothing  now  but  the 
note  of  utter  sadness.  Beatrix  trembled  for  her 
self,  for  the  fate  of  her  resolve,  as  she  heard  it. 

"  But  I  could  n't  hold  you,  Sidney."" 

"  No,  dear  ;  perhaps  not.  But  you  held  me 
more  than  you  knew.  You  only  saw  the  times  I 
slipped  ;  you  never  had  any  idea  of  the  times  I 
nearly  went  under,  and  pulled  myself  up  again 
for  your  sake.  If  it  had  n't  been  for  you  and 
Thayer,  for  Thayer  before  I  ever  saw  you,  dear,  I 
should  have  gone  under  long  ago.  Now  Thayer 
will  have  it  all  to  do." 

There  was  no  reproach  in  his  voice.  He  seemed 
to  be  merely  stating  the  fact,  not  entirely  for  her 
ears,  but  as  if  he  were  trying  to  accustom  himself 
to  the  thought  of  all  which  it  implied.  Suddenly 
his  shoulders  straightened  ;  his  tone  grew  reso 
nant  ;  his  words  came  more  rapidly. 

"  It  is  in  my  blood,  Beatrix.  My  mother  was 
[127] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


weak,  and  I  am  weaker  still.  I  know  the  danger ; 
I  see  it  and  I  tell  myself  that  I  must  fight  shy  of 
it.  For  a  while  I  do  fight  shy  of  it,  till  I  get  off 
my  guard  and  think  I  am  quite  safe.  The 
next  thing  I  know,  it  has  cropped  out  again,  and 
I  have  n't  the  nerve  to  face  it  and  knock  it  over. 
It  knocks  me  over,  instead,  and  each  knock  is  just 
a  little  harder  than  the  one  before  it  has  been.  I 
realize  it,  and  I  try  to  down  it ;  but  that  's  all  the 
good  it  does.  I  am  weak,  Beatrix,  weak  and 
selfish.  I  honestly  think  it  is  harder  for  me  to 
keep  steady  than  it  would  be  for  Thayer,  or  even 
for  Bobby.  The  taint  is  in  me.  I  don't  mean 
that  it  is  any  excuse  for  my  making  a  brute 
of  myself;  but,  if  there  is  any  pity  in  God,  he 
must  give  a  little  bit  of  it  to  us  fellows,  born 
weak,  realizing  our  weakness  and  truly  meaning 
to  fight  it,  and  yet  giving  in  to  it  again  and 
again.11 

"There  is  pity  in  God,  Sidney,"  she  said 
drearily  ;  "  but  pity  can't  do  any  good  in  a  case 
like  this.  You  need  help,  not  pity." 

"  The  help  of  man  ?  "  he  asked  bitterly.  "  Who 
will  give  it  ?  They  are  too  busy  saving  them 
selves.'1 

"  There  is  only  one  man  who  can  help  you." 

"Thayer?" 

[128] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  No  ;  yourself.  Sidney,  I  hate  to  discuss  this 
thing,  for  it  has  come  between  us  and  spoiled  life 
for  us  both  ;  but  you  have  no  right  to  depend  on 
Mr.  Thayer  as  you  do.  You  are  n't  a  child,  and 
you  can  fight  your  own  way  out  of  this." 

"  What  \s  the  use  now  ?  " 

"  Use  !  Everything.     Your  whole  manhood." 

"  But  in  the  end  ?  What  does  it  all  amount 
to?" 

"  Surely,  you  are  n't  child  enough  to  need  a 
bribe  ? "  she  asked  in  sharp  scorn. 

Her  scorn  stung  him  to  rapid  speech. 

"  Beatrix,  ever  since  I  turned  into  manhood,  I 
have  known  this  danger  of  mine,  and  I  have  tried 
to  fight  it  for  the  sake  of  the  woman  I  might 
love,  some  day.  Laugh,  if  you  will.  Perhaps  it 
is  funny ;  but  it  has  a  certain  pitiful  side  to  it, 
this  trying  to  keep  one's  self  clean  for  the  sake 
of  the  woman  one  has  never  yet  seen.  Then, 
last  fall,  I  did  see  her.  Since  then,  the  fight 
has  been  easier ;  perhaps  I  Ve  not  lost  so  many 
battles.  It  all  seemed  more  worth  while.  And 
now  — 

"  And  now  ?  "     Her  voice  was  almost  inaudible. 

"  Now    I   have  had    it  all  and  lost    it,  lost  it 
through  my  own  fault,  and  there  does  n't  seem  to 
be  anything  left  worth  fighting  for." 
9  [  129  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


There  was  a  long  silence.  At  length,  Beatrix 
rose. 

"  Sidney,"  she  said,  as  she  slowly  held  out  both 
hands  to  him  ;  "  shall  we  fight  side  by  side  for 
a  little  longer?" 


[130] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   TEN 

"  W  'VE  manufactured  a  new  definition  of  hap 
piness,"  Sally  said  to  Bobby  Dane,  six 

-*-    months  later. 

"What  now?" 

"  Think  with  the  mob." 

"  Who  has  rubbed  you  the  wrong  way,  this 
time  ? "  Bobby  queried  unsympathetically. 

"  Everybody.  I  am  so  tired  of  hearing  people 
praise  Beatrix  for  marrying  Sidney  Lorimer." 

Bobby  halted  and  shook  hands  with  her,  to  the 
manifest  wonder  of  the  post-ecclesiastical  Fifth 
Avenue  throng. 

"  That  ""s  where  even  your  head  is  level,  Sally," 
he  said,  as  he  resumed  his  stroll.  "  Do  you  want 
to  know  what  I  think  of  her  ? " 

"  If  you  agree  with  me  ;  not  otherwise.  I  hate 
arguments,  and,  besides,  it  is  bad  form  to  condemn 
one's  dearest  friend.  But  keeping  still  so  long  has 
nearly  driven  me  to  — 

"  Tetanus,"  Bobby  suggested.  "  Well,  my  im 
pression  of  Beatrix  is  that  she  is  a  bally  idiot.  I 
don't  know  just  what  bally  means  ;  but  our  English 
[131] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


brethren  apply  it  in  critical  cases,  and  so  it  is  sure 
to  be  right.  Yes,  I  think  Beatrix  is  very  bally 
indeed." 

"  Then  you  don't  approve,  either  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  I  ?  I  have  hated  Lorimer  from  the 
start." 

"  I  have  n't,"  Sally  said,  after  a  thoughtful 
interval.  "  I  liked  him  at  first."" 

"  You  never  saw  him  at  the  club,"  Bobby 
returned  briefly. 

"What  did  he  do  there?" 

"I  don't  know.     He  just  wasn't  right." 

Sally  paced  along  meditatively  at  his  side. 

"  Bobby,  you  are  a  critical  being,"  she  observed 
at  length. 

"Mayhap.  But  the  event  justifies  me.  I  never 
have  liked  Lorimer,  and  I  never  shall." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

Bobby  opened  his  hands  and  turned  them  palm 
downwards. 

"  There  ""s  nothing  to  be  done.  I  hate  to  see 
Beatrix  throw  herself  away  ;  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"  I  wonder  what  her  idea  is,"  Sally  said  thought 
fully.  "  She  has  always  been  so  down  upon  any 
fastness  that  I  supposed  she  would  cut  his  ac 
quaintance  entirely,  after  that  Lloyd  Avalons 
supper." 

[132] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  He  acted  an  awful  cad,  that  night."  Bobby's 
tone  was  disdainful.  "I  helped  get  him  home 
and,  before  he  was  fairly  out  of  the  dining-room, 
he  was  bragging  about  his  family,  and  his  money, 
and  the  Lord  knows  what." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  him.  Beatrix  heard  some  of  it, 
too,  before  Mr.  Thayer  took  her  away.  I  was  at 
her  house,  the  next  afternoon,  when  Mr.  Lorimer 
called,  and  I  was  sure  she  would  break  her  engage 
ment  there  and  then.  Put  not  your  faith  in  the 
principles  of  a  woman  in  love." 

"  Confound  her  principles  !  That  "s  what  is  the 
matter  with  her,"  Bobby  growled.  "I  had 
always  supposed  that  Beatrix  was  a  reasonable 
girl  ;  but  no  girl  in  her  senses  would  tackle  the 
job  of  marrying  Sidney  Lorimer  to  reform  him." 

"  When  I  do  it,  I  'll  reverse  things  and  reform 
the  man  to  marry  him,"  Sally  returned  shrewdly. 

Bobby  raised  his  brows. 

"  The  first  time  you  've  ever  warned  me  that  I 
was  on  probation,  Sally  !  " 

"  I  said  a  man,  not  a  boy,"  she  replied  unkindly. 
"  But,  after  all,  Mr.  Lorimer  has  been  perfectly 
steady,  all  summer  long." 

"  Mm  —  yes,  after  a  fashion.  Of  course,  he 
would  do  his  best,  for  I  will  do  him  the  justice  to 
admit  that  he  loves  Beatrix  with  all  the  manhood 
[133] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


there  is  in  him.     To  be  sure,  that  's  riot  saying 
much." 

"You  aren't  quite  fair  to  him,  Bobby.  He 
must  have  some  manhood  in  him,  to  have  steadied 
down  as  much  as  he  has  done,  this  summer." 

Bobby  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  He  is  playing  for  high  stakes,  Sally,  and  he 
can  afford  to  be  careful.  Any  slip  now  would 
prove  to  be  the  losing  of  the  whole  game.  Wait 
a  year  and  see." 

"  Then  you  think  —  " 

"  That  his  reform  is  skin  deep,  and  that,  like 
all  other  serpents,  he  sloughs  his  skin  once  a 
year." 

" Bobby ! " 

"  Sarah  Maria  !  " 

"  Don't  make  fun  of  me  because  I  was  named 
for  a  spinster  aunt.  I  can't  help  my  name." 

"No;  it's  past  help.  I'd  change  it,  if  I  were 
you.  Just  think  how  it  would  sound  at  the  altar, 
while  the  alteration  was  going  on !  'I,  Sarah 
Maria,  take  thee  — 

Sally  interposed  hurriedly. 

"  But,  to  go  back  to  Beatrix,  if  you  feel  in  this 
way  about  Mr.  Lorimer,  why  don't  you  do  some 
thing  about  it  ? " 

"  Do  what,  for  example  ? " 
[134] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Speak  to  her  father,  or  something." 

Bobby's  answer  had  an  accent  of  utter  gravity 
which  somehow  belied  the  frivolous  form  of  his 
words. 

"Sally,  1 11  give  you  a  new  proverb,  one  I  have 
found  useful  at  times.  Put  not  thy  finger  into 
thy  neighbor's  pie,  lest  it  get  stuck  there 
permanently." 

For  the  next  few  blocks,  the  silence  between 
them  was  unbroken.  Sally  nodded  to  an  occa 
sional  acquaintance,  and  Bobby,  without  lifting 
his  eyes  from  the  ground,  seconded  her  salute  with 
the  mechanical  raising  of  his  hat  which  good 
breeding  demands.  Few  conventions  are  more 
exasperatingly  impersonal  than  the  bow  and  smile 
of  the  average  social  being. 

"  But  I  love  Beatrix,"  Sally  said  inconsequently, 
after  an  interval. 

"  I,  too." 

For  the  moment,  both  voices  had  lost  their  cus 
tomary  tone  of  light  banter.  Bobby  broke  the 
next  pause. 

"Couldn't  you  say  something,  Sally?" 

"  I  wish   I    could ;  but  it  is   no  use.     Beatrix 

hasn't  the    least   respect    for    my    opinion.     She 

thinks   I   am   only  a  child,   and,   moreover,   once 

upon  a  time,  I  urged  her  to  marry  Mr.  Lorimer. 

[135] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Of  course,  that  was  before  any  of  this  came  out 
about  him  ;  but  I  hate  to  go  into  details  with  her, 
and,  if  I  don't  she  will  think  it 's  nothing  but  a 
whim." 

"  What  do  you  care  what  she  thinks  ?  " 

Sally  shifted  her  eyes  from  the  apartment 
houses  on  Eighth  Avenue  to  Bobby's  face. 

"  Bobby,  I  am  afraid  of  Beatrix,"  she  confessed. 
"  She  is  built  on  a  larger  frame  than  I  am,  and  we 
both  of  us  are  quite  aware  of  the  fact." 

"  It  may  be  a  part  of  her  capacious  frame  to 
risk  her  life  in  marrying  Sidney  Lorimer,"  Bobby 
grumbled  ;  "  but,  for  my  part,  I  prefer  smaller 
women." 

Sally  faced  him  suddenly. 

"  Bobby  !  You  don't  mean  you  think  he  will 
kill  her  sometime  when  he  is  drunk  ?  " 

"  No  such  luck  !  In  the  intervals,  he  will  adore 
her  and  treat  her  like  a  princess  ;  but  he  won't 
spare  her  the  anxiety  and  the  shame  of  knowing 
he  is  liable  to  take  too  much  at  any  reception  to 
which  they  may  send  an  acceptance.  You  haven't 
seen  men  as  I  have,  Sally  ;  you  don't  know  how 
far  they  can  make  babbling  fools  of  themselves, 
without  being  absolutely  drunk.  To  a  girl  like 
Beatrix,  the  shame  of  it  when  it  does  occur,  and 
the  fear  of  the  shame,  when  it  does  n't,  would  be 
[136] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


worse  than  sudden  death.  That  gets  over  and 
done  with ;  the  other  hangs  on  and  grows  worse 
and  worse  to  an  endless  end." 

"  And  you  think  there 's  no  cure  ?  " 
Once  more  Bobby  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  I  would  n't  take  any  chances." 
"  You  think  Beatrix  can't  hold  him  ?  " 
"  She  can  for  a  time  ;    but  there 's  no  knowing 
how  long  the  time  will  last.     Any  medicine  loses 
its  effect,  if  it  is  repeated  often  enough." 
"  What  about  Mr.  Thayer  ? " 
"  He  has  more  power  over  Lorimer  than  anyone 
else ;  but  he  has  his  own  professional  life  before 
him,  and  it  won't  be  long  before  New  York  has  a 
small  share  of  his  time.     He  is  n't  going  to  give 
up  a  grand  success  for  the  sake  of  playing  keeper 
to  Sidney  Lorimer." 

"  I  think  he  is  fully  capable  of  the  sacrifice." 
"  Capable,  yes.  But  it  would  be  a  sin  to  allow 
it ;  it  would  be  spoiling  a  saint  to  patch  up  a 
sinner.  Thayer's  future  is  too  broad  to  be  limited 
by  a  futile  creature  like  Lorimer.  If  he  turns 
Quixotic,  1 11  poison  him.  At  least,  that  will 
ensure  his  dying  in  the  full  tide  of  professional 
success." 

"  Ye  -  es,"  Sally  answered  thoughtfully  ;  "  but, 
do  you  know,  Mr.    Thayer  is  so  perfectly  organ- 
[137] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ized  that  I  have  an  idea  he  could  swallow  a 
certain  amount  of  poison  and  come  out  of  it  un 
harmed,  if  his  will  were  really  bent  upon  accom 
plishing  some  definite  end." 

There  was  another  interval.  It  was  Sally's  turn 
to  break  it. 

"  Bobby,  does  it  occur  to  you  that  we  are  just 
exactly  where  we  started  ?  We  both  hate  Mr. 
Lori  in  er ;  we  hate  the  idea  of  his  marrying 
Beatrix,  and  neither  one  of  us  dares  interfere. 
Let  "s  go  and  talk  to  Miss  Gannion." 

"  What 's  the  use  ?  " 

"  To  clear  out  our  mental  ganglia.  At  least,  by 
the  time  we  have  been  over  it  with  her,  we  shall 
know  what  we  think,  and  there "s  a  certain  satisfac 
tion  in  that." 

"  I  know  just  what  I  think  about  it  now." 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Damn,"  Bobby  replied  concisely. 

They  found  Miss  Gannion  alone  before  the  fire. 
She  threw  down  her  book  and  welcomed  them 
cordially. 

"  I  had  an  indolent  fit,  to-day,"  she  said,  as  she 
drew  some  chairs  up  before  the  hearth.  "  Once  in 
a  while,  I  prefer  to  dismiss  my  clerical  adviser  and 
settle  my  problems  to  suit  myself.  To  be  sure,  I 
am  quite  likely  to  settle  them  wrongly ;  but  that 
[138] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


renews    my    confidence    in    churchly    methods,  so 
some  good  is  gained,  after  all." 

Bobby  deliberately  placed  himself  in  the  chair 
which  long  experience  of  Miss  Gannion's  house 
had  taught  him  best  fitted  the  angles  of  his 
anatomy. 

"  We  came  to  have  you  settle  a  problem  for  us," 
he  said  ;  "  so  we  are  glad  your  hand  is  in." 

"  And  the  problem,"  Sally  added  ;  "  is  Beatrix." 

"  What  about  Beatrix  ? "  Miss  Gannion  asked. 

"  She  is  going  to  marry  Sidney  Lorimer,  and 
she  must  n't.  Please  tell  us  how  we  are  going  to 
prevent  it." 

Miss  Gannion  sat  still  for  a  moment,  with  her 
clear  eyes  fixed  on  the  glowing  embers. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  it  would  be  best  to  prevent 
it  ?  "  she  asked  then. 

Bobby  started  to  his  feet,  faced  about,  and 
stood  looking  down  at  the  little  figure  of  his 
hostess. 

"  Miss  Gannion,  Beatrix  and  I  have  been  chums 
ever  since  we  could  go  alone.  In  fact,  we  learned 
to  go  alone  by  hanging  on  to  each  other's  hands. 
I  love  her  as  a  fellow  without  any  si.sters  is  bound 
to  love  a  girl  cousin ;  and  1 11  be  blest  if  I  can 
keep  quiet  and  see  her  throw  herself  away." 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  her  about  it  ?  " 
[139] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  don't  dare,"  Bobby  returned  bluntly.  "  I 
know  I  should  end  by  losing  my  temper  and  say 
ing  things  about  Lorimer.  I  would  n't  hurt  Bea 
trix  for  the  world,  and  I  believe  she  honestly 
thinks  she  is  doing  the  Lord's  own  work  in  not 
throwing  Lorimer  over." 

"  Perhaps  she  may  be,"  Miss  Gannion  said 
gently. 

"  Miss  Gannion  !  Well,  if  she  is,  I  shall  have 
to  revise  my  notions  of  the  Lord,"  Bobby  re 
sponded  hotly. 

Miss  Gannion's  smile  never  wavered.  She  knew 
Bobby  Dane  too  well  to  resent  his  occasional  out 
bursts. 

"  Bobby,  my  dear  boy,"  she  said,  with  the  ma 
ternal  accent  she  assumed  at  times;  "this  isn't 
too  easy  a  problem  for  any  of  us ;  but  the  hardest 
part  of  its  solution  is  coming  on  Beatrix.  It 's  not 
an  easy  place  to  put  a  woman  with  a  conscience. 
The  old-fashioned  idea  was  to  marry  a  man  to  re 
form  him ;  the  new-fashioned  practice  is  to  wash 
your  hands  of  him  altogether,  as  soon  as  he  makes 
a  single  slip.  The  middle  course  is  the  most  diffi 
cult  one  to  take  and  the  most  thankless.  Any  good 
woman  is  sure  to  have  a  strong  hold  on  the  man 
who  loves  her ;  and,  in  times  of  real  danger,  she  is 
afraid  to  let  go  that  hold." 
[  140  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Bobby  shook  his  head. 

"  That 's  Beatrix  all  over,  Miss  Gannion.  But 
it  will  take  a  mighty  strong  grip  to  haul  Lorimer 
across  to  firm  ground." 

"  I  realize  that." 

"  But  the  question  is,  does  Beatrix  realize  it, 
too,"  Sally  said  abruptly. 

"  Better  than  we  can.  I  think  she  has  measured 
both  the  danger  and  her  own  strength." 

Bobby  took  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the 
room.  Then  he  came  back  to  the  hearthrug. 

"  She  can't  do  it,"  he  said  conclusively.  "  The 
odds  are  all  against  her.  Lorimer  can't  pull  her 
down,  of  course  ;  but  he  can  tug  and  tug  till  he 
has  used  up  all  her  strength  and  she  has  to  let 
him  go.  And  then  what  ?  Miss  Gannion,  do  you 
honestly  think  it  worth  the  while  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  do  not,"  she  said  reluctantly. 

"  Then  why  the  deuce  do  you  argue  for  it  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  a  recurrence  of  his  former  temper. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Gannion  ;  but  this 
maddens  me,  and  I  came  here  to  have  you  help 
me  find  a  way  out.  Instead,  you  are  in  favor  of 
Beatrix's  signing  her  own  death  warrant." 

"  No,"  she  said  slowly.     "  Down  in  my  heart  of 
hearts,  I  think  it  is  all  a  mistake,  a  terrible  mis 
take  ;  and  I  have  tried  in  vain  to  find  a  way  to 
[141] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


prevent  it.  Then,  each  time  I  think  it  over,  I  am 
afraid  to  prevent  it,  because  it  seems  to  me  that 
Beatrix's  mistake  is  just  a  little  bit  nobler  than 
the  safe  course  which  we  ourselves  would  take." 

"  Have  you  heard  Mr.  Thayer  say  what  he 
thinks  about  it?"  Sally  asked. 

"  Not  lately." 

Sally's  eyes  were  under  less  subjection  than  her 
tongue,  and  Miss  Gannion  answered  the  question 
they  so  plainly  asked. 

"  Long  ago,  before  the  night  of  the  concert, 
even,  Mr.  Thayer  spoke  of  the  matter  to  me. 
Since  then  he  has  never  mentioned  it." 

"I  wish  you  would  ask  him  what  he  thinks 
now,"  Sally  said  bluntly.  "  He  knows  Mr.  Lori- 
mer  better  than  any  of  us  do,  and  he  should  be 
able  to  judge  what  we  ought  to  do  about  it." 

"  The  honest  fact  is,"  Bobby  broke  in  thought 
fully  ;  "  we  can't  one  of  us  do  a  solitary  thing 
about  it,  but  get  together  and  grumble.  Beatrix 
has  n't  a  clinging,  confiding  nature  ;  she  makes  up 
her  own  mind  and  she  does  n't  change  it  easily.  If 
she  has  decided  to  marry  Lorimer,  we  can  kneel  in 
a  ring  at  her  feet  and  shed  tears  by  the  pint,  and 
all  the  good  it  will  do  us  will  be  the  chance  of  mak 
ing  her  die  of  pneumonia  caused  by  the  surround 
ing  dampness.  But  it 's  a  beastly  shame  !  I  'd 


The  Dominant  Strain 


rather  she  married  Arlt  and  done  with  it.  If 
you  Ve  got  to  form  a  character,  it  \s  better  to  start 
in  while  the  character  is  young." 

Miss  Gannion  caught  at  the  opportunity  for  a 
digression. 

"  Mr.  Arlt  is  coming  to  lunch,"  she  observed. 

"  To-day  ?  I  did  n't  know  he  was  back  in 
town." 

"  He  came  last  night." 

"  Was  Mr.  Thayer  with  him  ?  " 

"  No ;  Mr.  Thayer  sings  in  Boston,  last  night 
and  to-night.  He  sent  me  a  note,  saying  I  might 
expect  him  to  dinner  on  Tuesday." 

u  I  wonder  what  success  Mr.  Arlt  has  had." 

"  Mr.  Thayer  sent  me  some  criticisms.  They 
were  very  enthusiastic,  as  far  as  they  went;  but 
that  was  only  a  few  lines." 

"  And  the  rest  of  the  criticism  probably  con 
cerned  itself  with  Thayer,  and  was  discreetly  cut 
away,"  Bobby  said,  as  he  dropped  back  into  his 
chair.  "  Miss  Gannion,  Arlt  is  on  the  steps,  and 
you  have  not  invited  us  to  stay  to  lunch,  so 
we  must  take  a  reluctant  departure.  Before  I  go, 
though,  I  "d  like  to  ask  one  favor.  When  Thayer 
comes,  Tuesday  night,  are  you  willing  to  talk  the 
whole  matter  over  with  him  and  see  what  he 
thinks  about  it  now  ?  There  would  be  a  certain 
[143] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


consolation  to  me  in  knowing  that  he  disapproved 
the  affair,  and  he  may  possibly  suggest  some  way 
of  breaking  it  off." 

"  Possibly,""  Miss  Gannion  assented ;  "  unless  it 
is  already  too  late." 

The  words  were  still  ringing  in  the  air,  when 
Arlt  came  into  the  room.  They  were  still  ring 
ing  in  Bobby's  ears,  ten  minutes  later,  when  he 
and  Sally  took  their  leave. 

"  My  mental  ganglia  are  cleared,"  Bobby  said 
disconsolately,  as  they  went  down  the  steps.  "  I 
now  see  that  there  is  precisely  one  thing  for  us  to 
do,  and  only  one." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  To  grin  and  bear  it." 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   ELEVEN 

BEATRIX'S  principles  extended  even  to  the 
point   of   observing   her  day   at   home. 
Society  was  bidden,  the  next  afternoon, 
to  a  tea  at  Mrs.  Stanley's,  and  Beatrix  was  abso 
lutely  certain  that  none  of  her  friends  would  cross 
the  intervening  forty  blocks  in  order  to  look  in 
upon  her,  going  or  coming.     In  her  secret  heart, 
she  longed  to  follow  society  ;  instead,  she  was  sit 
ting  in  solitude,  when  Thayer  was  announced. 

She  rose  to  greet  him  with  a  cordial  friendli 
ness,  for  the  past  six  months  had  made  a  great 
change  in  their  outward  relations.  They  had 
liked  each  other  from  the  day  of  Mrs.  Stanley's 
recital,  and  the  liking  had  increased  with  each 
subsequent  meeting.  During  the  next  few  weeks, 
they  had  met  often.  Lorimer  insisted  upon  going 
to  every  recital  at  which  Thayer  was  to  sing,  and 
under  his  guidance  Beatrix  had  gained  a  fair  idea 
of  what  went  on  behind  the  scenes.  Thayer, 
meanwhile,  had  swiftly  assumed  his  own  place  in 
society,  and  discerning  hostesses  generally  found 
it  well  to  put  him  near  to  Beatrix  at  dinner. 
Owing  to  his  many  evening  engagements,  Thayer 
10  [  145  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


usually  ate  but  sparingly,  so  it  was  all  the  more 
necessary  that  lie  should  be  placed  within  range 
of  someone  with  whom  he  cared  to  talk.  He 
rarely  lent  himself  to  the  usual  run  of  social 
badinage  ;  but  retired  into  his  shell  whenever  it 
became  the  dominant  note  of  the  conversation. 
A  man  of  his  bulk  and  prominence  and  potential 
boredom  was  an  object  of  hospitable  considera 
tion.  He  could  always  talk  to  Beatrix,  for  she 
never  chattered.  Therefore  he  was  generally  to 
be  found  somewhere  within  the  conversational 
radius  of  Beatrix  Dane. 

The  tea  table  of  Beatrix,  moreover,  had  become 
one  of  the  focal  points  of  his  New  York  life.  He 
liked  the  cheery,  informal  atmosphere  of  the  house 
whose  old-fashioned  austerity  was  tempered  with 
a  dash  of  modern  frivolity  ;  he  liked  the  people  he 
met  there,  people  too  assured  of  their  own  social 
position  to  be  touchy  upon  slight  points  of  social 
precedence.  Most  of  all,  he  liked  Beatrix  Dane, 
herself.  In  the  gay,  chattering  multitude  among 
whom  she  moved,  her  own  steadfast  quietness 
stood  out  in  bold  relief,  and  it  answered  to  cer 
tain  traits  of  his  own  Puritanism.  It  was  not 
that  she  was  dull,  or  overfreighted  with  conscience. 
She  frisked  with  the  others  of  her  kind  ;  but  her 
friskiness  was  intermittent  and  never  frivolous. 
[146] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


To  Beatrix  Dane,  pleasure  was  an  interlude,  never 
the  sole  end  and  aim  of  life.  And,  on  her  own 
side,  Beatrix  felt  a  thorough  admiration  for  the 
clean-minded,  clean-bodied  singer,  a  thorough 
reliance  upon  his  judgment  and  upon  his  loyalty 
to  anyone  to  whom  he  vouchsafed  his  friendship. 

This  had  been  the  relation  between  them,  on 
the  evening  of  the  concert  for  the  Fresh  Air 
Fund,  a  relation  whose  cordial  matter-of-factness 
was  in  no  way  disturbed  by  the  potent  spell  of 
Thayer's  voice.  Beatrix  had  spent  much  of  her 
life  in  the  open  air ;  she  was  too  healthy  to  be 
given  to  self-analysis.  She  admitted  to  herself 
the  wonderful  power  of  Thayer's  voice,  the  pas 
sionate  appeal  of  certain  of  his  songs ;  but  she 
made  a  curiously  sharp  distinction  between  the 
man  and  the  voice.  The  one  might  be  a  strong 
guiding  force  in  the  current  of  her  life ;  the  other 
was  a  rising  tide  that  swept  her  from  her  moor 
ings  and  left  her  drifting  to  and  fro  over  stormy 
seas.  On  the  night  of  the  Fresh  Air  Fund  concert, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  experience,  these  two  per 
sonalities  had  become  inextricably  intermingled. 
As  she  had  said,  she  had  never  before  realized  the 
possibilities  of  either  Thayer  or  his  voice. 

Everything  had  conspired  to  produce  the  im 
pression.     All  day  long,  she  had  been  haunted  by 
[147] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


a  nervous,  nameless  dread.  The  vague  hints  and 
signs  of  the  past  months  had  suddenly  gathered 
to  a  nucleus  of  anxiety  and  alarm,  and,  in  spite 
of  her  rigid  self-control,  she  had  been  terrified  into 
giving  the  one  outcry,  partly  to  satisfy  her  femi 
nine  need  for  sympathy,  partly  with  the  hope  of 
putting  Lorimer  upon  his  guard.  The  sympathy 
had  come,  prompt  and  loving  ;  the  warning  had 
been  utterly  ignored. 

Music  ought  to  be  taken  with  fasting  and 
prayer.  Quiet  nerves  and  a  full  stomach  are  deaf 
to  its  deepest  meaning.  To  most  of  the  audience, 
Honor  and  Arms  stood  as  a  superb  piece  of  vocal 
gymnastics  ;  to  Beatrix,  Thayer  was  like  a  live 
wire,  pulsing  with  a  virile  scorn  of  any  but  uneven 
contests,  defiant  only  of  those  mightier  than  him 
self.  To  her  mind,  he  was  ready  to  court  heavy 
odds,  bound  to  conquer  them,  one  and  all ;  and 
her  own  pulses  beat  faster  in  time  to  the  half- 
barbarous  outburst  which  ends  the  great  aria. 
The  Gade  concerto,  instead  of  soothing  her,  had 
only  exasperated  her.  She  longed  to  get  behind 
the  violinist  and  the  orchestra  and  even  the  com 
poser  himself,  and  goad  them  into  some  tenseness 
of  emotion.  But  the  Slavonic  Dance  had  set  her 
heart  bounding  once  more,  until  her  very  finger 
tips  tingled  with  the  blood  racing  through  them, 
[148] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


and  the  clashing  cymbals  had  seemed  scarcely 
louder  than  the  ringing  of  her  own  ears.  The 
rest  had  been  only  the  natural  sequel ;  Danny 
and  Arlt's  failure  had  led  inevitably  up  to  the 
finale  when  Thayer's  eyes,  burning  with  that  new, 
strange  light,  had  held  her  own  eyes  captive  while 
he  had  sounded  the  tragic  note  which  dominates 
all  human  love. 

And  the  finale  had  not  been  final,  after  all. 
She  had  had  a  vague  presentiment  that  the  cross 
might  be  at  the  end;  she  had  been  totally  unpre 
pared  to  find  it  pressed  to  her  lips,  that  selfsame 
night. 

With  a  swift  excuse,  Thayer  had  hurried  her 
back  into  the  music-room  ;  but  he  had  not  been 
able  to  prevent  that  one  instant  when  Beatrix  had 
found  herself  face  to  face  with  a  Lbrimer  she  had 
never  known  till  then.  Though  her  eyes  had  be 
trayed  her  horror  of  the  scene,  she  had  kept  her 
voice  steady  as  she  asked  Thayer  to  call  her 
carriage  and  to  say  her  farewells  to  her  hostess. 

Thayer  went  with  her  to  her  own  door.  Neither 
of  them  spoke  until  they  stood  on  the  steps  ;  then 
Thayer  cleared  his  throat,  but  even  then  his  voice 
was  husky. 

"  It  may  not  be  as  bad  as  you  think,  Miss 
Dane,"  he  said  slowly. 

[149] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


As  if  with  a  physical  effort,  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  his. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  she  assented  ;  "  but  I  can  think 
of  nothing  worse.11 

It  took  Thayer  two  weeks  to  gather  together 
his  courage  to  see  her  again.  He  too  had  been 
shaken  by  the  events  of  the  evening.  His  Slav 
blood,  kindled  by  the  Dvorak  dance,  fired  by  his 
anger  for  Arlt,  had  blazed  up  into  a  fury  of  scorn 
and  hatred  against  the  man  who  would  so  allow 
his  own  weakness  to  stab  another's  strength. 
Lorimer,  in  Bobby  Dane's  cab  and  under  the  lash 
of  Bobby's  energetic  tongue,  was  out  of  Thayer's 
way ;  but,  as  Thayer  stood  looking  down  at  the 
face,  whiter  than  the  fluffy  white  fur  of  her  cloak, 
he  had  felt  a  momentary  longing  to  take  Beatrix 
into  his  arms  and,  holding  her  there,  to  protect 
her  from  Lorimer  and  from  the  danger  that  was 
threatening  her  whole  happiness.  The  moment 
passed  and  with  it  the  longing ;  but,  unknown  to 
himself,  it  had  done  its  work.  It  had  broken  out 
the  beginning  of  a  new  channel ;  it  had  prepared 
the  way  for  a  new  trend  of  thought. 

Bobby  Dane  told  him  what  had  actually  passed 

between  himself  and  Lorimer  on  the  way  home, 

what  had  probably  occurred,  the  next  day,  between 

Lorimer  and  Beatrix.     Thayer  waited  before  call- 

[150] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ing  until  he  hoped  the  memory  of  what  had 
passed  was  so  remote  that  neither  he  nor  Beatrix 
would  think  of  it  again.  Nevertheless,  though 
Beatrix  was  surrounded  by  callers  and  upon  her 
guard,  the  eyes  of  both  drooped  before  the  sud 
den  consciousness  of  having  faced  a  crisis  side  by 
side. 

According  to  their  annual  custom,  the  Danes 
went  to  their  cottage  at  Monomoy,  the  first  of 
July,  and  Lorimer  took  up  his  quarters  at  the 
hotel,  less  than  a  mile  away.  Two  weeks  later, 
Thayer  and  Arlt  joined  him  there.  Lorimer  had 
been  urgent  for  Thayers  coming,  and  Thayer, 
upon  thinking  the  matter  over,  could  see  no  valid 
reason  for  refusal.  Miss  Gannion  was  on  the  way 
to  Alaska,  that  summer,  and,  next  to  her,  the 
Danes  were  the  closest  friends  he  had  made  during 
his  first  season  in  New  York.  It  was  only  natural 
that  he  should  arrange  his  plans  in  order  to  be 
near  them.  Moreover,  the  idle  life  on  the  island 
sounded  attractive,  and  he  was  fully  aware  of  the 
fact  that  his  constant  companionship  would  be  a 
strong  hold  upon  Lorimer.  All  in  all,  he  decided 
to  go. 

He  took  Arlt  with  him,  on  the  plea  of  requiring 
an  accompanist  for  the  new  songs  he  was  studying. 
The  boy  needed  the  change.  The  stress  of  New 
[151] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


York  life  was  wearing  upon  him  ;  the  conscious 
ness  of  comparative  failure  had  disheartened  him. 
He  needed  the  tonic  of  sea  air  and  of  idleness  and 
of  contact  with  inartistic,  care-free  humanity. 
Furthermore,  Thayer  felt  that  he  himself  might 
need  the  tonic  of  the  simple-hearted  affection  of 
the  young  German.  The  world  about  him  was 
too  complex.  There  were  days  when  the  most 
conventional  of  incidents  seemed  weighted  with  a 
hidden  meaning,  burdened  with  a  consciousness 
of  their  own  future  import. 

The  summer  days  passed  swiftly  and  with  a 
certain  monotony.  During  the  mornings  while 
Thayer  was  practising,  Lorimer  and  Beatrix  idled 
away  the  hours  together.  Later  in  the  day, 
Thayer  always  appeared  at  Monomoy,  sometimes 
with  Lorimer,  sometimes  alone.  Occasionally 
Beatrix  forsook  them  both,  and  went  off  for  long 
walks  with  Arlt  or  floated  lazily  about  the  harbor 
with  him,  leaving  her  mother  to  entertain  the 
young  men  with  garrulous  recollections  of  her 
own  childhood. 

One  subject  was  forever  sealed  between  Beatrix 
and  Thayer,  to  one  evening's  events  they  neither 
of  them  ever  alluded.  Now  and  then,  at  some 
careless  turn  of  the  conversation,  one  or  the  other 
of  them  would  stealthily  raise  his  eyes  to  find  the 
[152] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


other  furtively  watching  him ;  and  their  eyes 
would  drop  apart  again  swiftly.  It  was  obvious 
to  Thayer  that  Beatrix  was  carrying  a  heavy 
care,  that  summer.  If  Lorimer  were  tardy  in 
appearing,  she  was  absent  and  restless ;  if  he  came 
upon  her  suddenly,  she  started ;  if  he  talked  or 
laughed  more  than  usual,  she  invented  an  excuse 
to  take  him  away  from  the  group,  apart  from  the 
general  conversation.  Occasionally,  it  was  evident 
to  Thayer  that  she  was  trying  to  take  him,  him 
self,  off  his  guard,  seeking  to  make  him  betray 
himself,  in  case  he  was  sharing  in  her  watchfulness. 
Upon  such  occasions,  Thayer's  mental  armor 
became  as  impenetrable  as  a  corselet  of  steel.  If 
he  were  keeping  guard  over  Lorimer,  amusing  him 
and  circumventing  him  in  a  thousand  different 
ways,  it  was  not  only  for  Lorimer's  sake,  but  for 
that  of  Beatrix  as  well,  and  it  was  imperative 
that  Beatrix  should  never  know.  The  day  had 
passed  forever  when  he  could  look  into  Miss 
Gann ion's  clear  eyes  and  declare  with  perfect 
truthfulness  that  Beatrix  was  nothing  in  the 
world  to  him.  He  admitted  this  to  himself;  he 
also  admitted  that  there  arc  an  infinite  number  of 
gradations  between  the  opposite  poles,  nothing  and 
something.  There  was  no  especial  need  of  deciding 
which  one  of  them  marked  his  present  status. 
[153J 


The  Dominant  Strain 


This  Monday  afternoon  was  the  first  time  he 
had  seen  Beatrix  since  early  September.  He  had 
left  the  others  at  Monomoy  and,  in  company  with 
Arlt,  had  gone  back  to  the  city  to  put  himself  in 
training  for  some  autumn  festivals  at  which  he  had 
been  engaged  to  sing.  By  the  time  Beatrix  was 
back  in  town  once  more,  he  had  started  upon  what 
was  destined  to  be  a  triumphal  progress  through 
New  England.  To  some  men,  the  mere  profes 
sional  success  would  have  been  enough  in  itself ; 
but  Thayer  was  of  too  large  calibre  to  find  a  steady 
diet  of  applause  and  adjectives,  both  in  the  super 
lative  degree  of  comparison,  either  a  satisfactory 
or  a  stimulating  meal.  Often  and  often,  as  he 
bowed  across  the  footlights  preparatory  to 
shouldering  and  lugging  off  his  ponderous  wreath 
of  laurels,  he  would  have  given  all  the  evening's 
triumph  for  the  sake  of  one  quiet  hour  upon  the 
Monomoy  beach. 

The  evening  before  had  been  the  climax  of  his 
empty  successes.  It  had  been  Boston's  first 
oratorio  of  the  season,  and  the  wreath  had  been 
an  unusually  ponderous  one.  It  had  met  him 
promptly  at  the  end  of  his  first  number,  and  it 
had  impressed  him  as  a  curious  bit  of  irony,  fol 
lowing  as  it  did  upon  the  closing  phrases  of  Spe 
modo  Vivitur.  Were  his  crowns  to  be  only  the 
[154] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


thornless,  characterless  ones  that  went  with  his 
profession  ?  He  bowed  low,  nevertheless,  before 
the  storm  of  applause,  set  up  his  trophy  against 
the  steadiest  of  the  music  racks  of  the  second 
violins,  and  lost  himself  so  completely  in  wonder 
ing  how  Lorimer  was  holding  out  without  him 
that  he  went  through  his  part  in  the  quartette, 
three  numbers  later,  in  perfect  unconsciousness  of 
the  hostile  glances  which  the  soprano  had  been 
casting  at  him  during  the  Est  tibi  Laurea.  Her 
flowers  had  been  carnations,  and  only  two  dozen 
of  them,  at  that. 

The  next  afternoon,  Thayer  found  himself  in 
the  familiar  room,  with  Beatrix's  hand  in  his  own. 

"  Only  ten  weeks,  measured  by  time,"  he 
answered  her  greeting  ;  "  but  it  seems  half  a  de 
cade  since  we  were  killing  time  on  the  beach  at 
Monomoy." 

"  Killing  crabs,  you  would  better  say,"  she 
returned,  with  a  smile.  "  I  think  you  and  Sidney 
must  have  exterminated  the  race  for  all  time." 

"Can  you  destroy  the  future  for  a  race  that 
habitually  goes  backwards  ?  "  he  questioned,  with 
a  boyish  gayety  which  she  had  never  seen  in  him 
before.  "  How  is  Lorimer  ?" 

No  one  else  but  Thayer  would  have  noted  the 
slight  hesitation  that  punctuated  her  reply. 
[155] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"He  is  — well." 

Thayer's  momentary  gayety  left  him,  and  he 
glanced  at  her  sharply. 

"  And  you  ? "  he  asked. 

"I  am  always  in  rude  health,  just  now  the 
better  for  having  you  invade  my  loneliness.  Do 
you  still  take  only  one  lump  ? "  Her  tone  was 
perfectly  noncommittal. 

"  Only  one.  How  does  it  happen  that  I  have 
the  good  luck  to  find  you  alone  ?  " 

"Everybody  is  at  Mrs.  Stanley's.  She  has 
captured  a  new  lion,  and  has  bidden  the  world  to 
come  and  inspect  her  prey." 

Thayer  laughed. 

"  What  is  he,  this  time  ?  " 

"  Not  he  at  all ;  it  is  a  full-fledged  Japanese 
princess  whose  husband  does  lectures  on  some 
sort  of  theosophy  before  all  the  universities. 
Your  lustre  is  totally  eclipsed  by  this  new  comet." 
There  was  a  short  silence ;  then  Beatrix  added 
inconsequently,  "  We  all  of  us  have  been  so  de 
lighted  at  your  success,  Mr.  Tliayer." 

He  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  discount  the 
fact ;  but  merely  asked,  — 

"  How  did  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  We  have  followed  you  in  the  papers.  Bobby 
had  some,  and  I  think  Sidney  must  have  bought 
[156] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


tons  of  them.  He  even  talked  of  subscribing  to 
a  clipping  bureau.  He  has  read  them  aloud  to 
us,  every  night  ;  and  we  all  have  tried  to  act  as 
if  it  were  nothing  so  very  unusual  to  have  one 
of  our  friends  winning  laurels  by  the  wholesale.'1 

"They  were  very  concrete  laurels,  too,  Miss 
Dane,"  he  returned  indifferently,  though  his  face 
had  lighted  at  her  eager  accent.  "  Some  of  the 
wreaths  must  have  been  four  feet  across,  and  I 
invariably  tripped  over  the  ribbons,  when  I  car 
ried  them  off  the  stage.  I  did  wish  they  would 
furnish  a  dray  ;  garlands  are  horribly  in  the  way 
in  a  carriage." 

"  And  then  what  became  of  them  ?  " 

Thayer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Ask  the  chambermaids  along  the  route.  I 
don't  mean  to  be  unappreciative ;  but  not  even 
the  most  trusting  of  publics  could  expect  me  to 
bear  my  trophies  away  in  my  arms,  next  morning. 
I  came  to  wish  I  could  ship  them  back  to  the 
florist,  to  be  presented  to  some  other  baritone, 
the  next  night." 

"  But  you  enjoyed  the  trip  ?  " 

"  After  a  fashion.  I  enjoyed  the  summer  more, 
though." 

"  There  is  a  certain  satisfaction  in  dropping  off 
the  social  harness  now  and  then,  and  we  were  com- 
[157] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


paratively  primitive  at  Monomoy,"  she  assented. 
"The  whole  summer  would  have  been  worth  while, 
just  for  the  sake  of  seeing  Mr.  Arlt  enjoy  it. 
Has  he  come  back  yet  ? " 

"  Yes,  two  days  ago.  The  trip  has  meant  a 
good  deal  to  him,  and  already  he  is  engaged  for 
two  festivals  in  the  spring.  I  am  hoping  that  a 
taste  of  success  will  give  him  more  self-reliance. 
He  needs  it,  if  ever  he  is  to  impose  himself  upon 
the  dear  public.  Even  the  critics  are  prone  to 
take  a  man  at  his  own  valuation,  and  one  of  the 
best  American  musicians  is  working  in  a  corner, 
to-day,  because  he  finds  it  a  good  deal  more 
interesting  to  work  towards  future  successes 
than  to  exploit  his  past  ones  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world.1' 

Beatrix  smiled,  half  in  assent,  half  in  amuse 
ment  at  his  sudden  energy. 

"  Mr.  Arlt  will  succeed  in  time  ;  he  is  only  a 
boy  yet.  But,  with  genius  and  energy  and  his 
real  love  for  his  art,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of 
his  future." 

"  That  is  as  fate  may  decree,"  Thayer  answered. 

"  Or  Providence,"  she  corrected  him. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Miss  Dane,  the  more  I  know  of  life,  I  am 
learning  to  write  fate  in  capitals,  and  to  spell 
[158] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Providence  with  a   little  p.     Things   are  pretty 
well  cut  out  for  us." 

She  glanced  at  him  with  sudden  intentness. 

"  Then  I  hope  the  scissors  are  sharp,  and  that 
Moira  carries  a  steady  hand.  We  have  to  put  up 
with  our  own  indecisions  ;  those  of  other  people 
are  maddening." 

"  Does  n't  that  depend  upon  what  the  decision 
finally  proves  to  be  ?  "  he  asked. 

Her  eyes  had  gone  back  to  the  fire,  and  her 
face  was  very  grave. 

"  No  ;  I  would  rather  know  where  I  am  going. 
Anything  is  better  than  drifting  ;  it  is  a  comfort 
to  look  steadily  forward  to  the  best  or  to  the 
worst."  Suddenly  she  roused  herself.  "  Mr. 
Thayer,  do  you  realize  that  it  i*s  two  months  since 
I  have  heard  you  sing  ?  " 

He  roused  himself  quite  as  suddenly.  In  the 
slight  pause  which  had  broken  her  speech,  he  had 
been  making  a  swift,  but  futile  effort  to  chart  the 
future.  He  knew  that  Lorimer  was  drifting  care 
lessly,  thoughtlessly  ;  he  also  knew  that  Beatrix 
was  allowing  herself  to  drift  idly  in  his  wake. 
And  how  about  himself?  And  would  they  all 
make  the  same  port  in  the  end  ?  If  not,  where 
would  the  diverging  currents  be  waiting  for 
them  ? 

[159] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


His  brain  was  working  intently ;  but  his  voice 
was  quite  conventional,  as  he  rose. 

"  I  hoped  you  would  ask  me.  After  a  month 
or  two  of  singing  to  strangers,  I  begin  to  feel  the 
need  of  something  a  little  more  personal.  Will 
you  have  the  new  songs,  or  the  old  ?  " 

"  The  old,  of  course,"  she  answered  unhesitat 
ingly. 

He  improvised  for  a  moment ;  then  he  began 
to  sing,  — 

"  The  hours  I  spent  with  thee,  dear  heart, 
Are  as  a  string  of  pearls  to  me. 
I  count  them  over  one  by  —  " 

Abruptly  he  stopped  singing  and  struck  a  dozen 
resonant  major  chords. 

"  What  a  disgustingly  sentimental  thing  that 
is !  "  he  said  sharply.  "  After  our  summer  at 
Monomoy  in  the  sea  air,  we  need  an  atmosphere 
of  ozone,  not  of  laughing  gas." 

And  he  played  the  prelude  of  Die  Beiden 
Grenadieren. 


[160] 


The  Do?ninant  Strain 


CHAPTER   TWELVE 

ARLT  dropped  in  at  Thayer's  rooms,  the 
next  afternoon,  and  sat  looking  on  while 
his  friend  put  himself  into  his  evening 
clothes,  preparatory  to  dining  with  Miss  Gannion. 

"  I  walked  up  here  with  Mr.  Dane,"  he  observed, 
after  a  thoughtful  interval.  "What  an  Ameri 
can  he  is !  " 

"American?" 

"  Yes.  No  other  country  but  yours  can  pro 
duce  such  people.  France  tries  it,  and  fails.  A 
Frenchman  takes  his  frivolity  in  earnest.  Mr. 
Dane  is  like  that  little  Scherzo  by  Faulkes,  the 
one  that  frisks  on  and  on,  and  all  of  a  sudden 
comes  to  an  end  with  a  loud  Ha  ha  over  its  own 
absurdity.  Mr.  Dane  delights  in  his  own  talk, 
just  as  you  delight  in  your  singing."" 

"  He  is  not  self-conscious,"  Thayer  objected 
quickly. 

"  Neither  are  you.     Each  of  you  has  a  gift,  and 

you  each  delight  in  using  it.     That  is  not  saying 

that  you  either  of  you  regard  it  as  the  only  gift  in 

the  world.     Instead,  having  it,  you  make  the  most 

11  [  161  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


of  it,  to  let  it  grow  and  to  put  it  in  the  way  of 
giving  pleasure  to  other  people." 

Thayer  smiled,  in  spite  of  himself. 

"To  paraphrase  you,  Arlt,  what  a  German  you 
are !  Nobody  else  would  attempt  to  philosophize 
concerning  Bobby  Dane." 

"  Why  not  ?  He  is  worth  it,  for  he  has  other 
gifts  than  his  wit." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  about  Lorimer  ?  "  Thayer 
asked  abruptly. 

"  He  spoke  of  him  once  or  twice." 

"  Anything  especial  ?  " 

«N-o." 

There  had  been  a  slight  hesitation.  The  next 
instant,  Arlt  felt  Thayer's  keen  eyes  upon  him. 

"  Is  anything  wrong  with  Lorimer  ?  " 

"What  should  there  be?" 

"  Nothing  should  be.     I  asked  if  anything  is." 

"  Mr.  Dane  would  hardly  discuss  his  friends 
with  me."  Arlfs  tone  was  noncommittal. 

"  Now,  see  here,  Arlt,  don't  get  obstinate.  We 
both  know  Lorimer's  failing.  Have  you  heard 
anything  new  about  him  ? " 

Arlt  stared  hard  at  the  carpet. 

"  Mr.  Lorimer  was  very  good  to  the  mother 
and  Katarina,"  he  said,  in  his  slow,  deliberate 
English. 

[162] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"That  may  be.  Mr.  Lorimer  has  been  good 
to  a  great  many  people,  and  we  are  n't  going  to 
forget  it.  That  does  n't  keep  us  from  knowing 
his  weakness.'1 

"  No,"  Arlt  said  simply  ;  "  but  it  might  keep 
us  from  discussing  it." 

Thayer's  lips  shut  closely  for  an  instant.  He 
felt  a  rebuke  which  Arlt  would  never  have  dared 
to  intend. 

"  It  might ;  but  it  does  not.  We  both  know 
it,  and  there  is  no  harm  in  our  talking  it  over. 
Lorimer  is  weak  and  foolish ;  he  is  n't  nearly 
so  bad  as  many  men  we  know.  The  taint  is 
in  his  blood,  and  he  is  too  easy-going  to  fight 
it  out." 

"  But  he  did  fight,  last  summer,"  Arlt  urged. 

Thayer's  thoughts  flew  backwards  to  one  night, 
in  Lorimer's  room  at  the  hotel.  It  seemed  to 
him  he  could  still  see  Lorimer's  flushed  face,  still 
hear  against  the  background  of  noises  that  marred 
the  stillness  of  the  August  moonlight  outside  the 
window,  the  high-pitched,  insistent  voice  of  the 
man  who  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  arguing 
about  the  necessity  of  unlacing  his  shoes  before 
taking  them  off".  The  next  morning,  Beatrix  had 
received  a  note  from  Thayer,  apologizing  for 
carrying  Lorimer  off'  for  a  day's  fishing.  Cotton 
[163]  ' 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Mather  himself  might  well  have  envied  the  grim 
fervor  of  the  sermon  preached  by  his  namesake, 
that  sunshiny  summer  day.  The  old-time  hell 
gave  place  to  a  more  modern  theory  of  retribu 
tion  ;  but  the  terrors  were  painted  with  a  black - 
tipped  brush,  and  Lorimer  had  shuddered,  as  he 
listened.  For  the  once,  Thayer  had  made  no 
effort  to  avoid  rousing  his  antagonism.  Lorimer 
had  been  more  angry  than  ever  before  in  his  life  ; 
then  the  inevitable  reaction  had  come,  and  it  had 
been  a  penitent,  hopeful  sinner  who  had  walked 
up  the  pier  at  Thayers  side,  late  in  the  afternoon. 
But  Arlt,  who  had  been  playing  Chopin  at 
Monomoy,  all  the  previous  evening,  was  quite  at 
a  loss  to  understand  how  a  single  day's  fishing 
could  so  completely  exhaust  a  strong  man  like 
Thayer. 

Arlt  changed  his  phrase  to  the  direct  question. 

"Don't  you  think  he  fought  with  the  best  that 
was  in  him  ?  " 

And   Thayer   assented    with   perfect   truthful 
ness,  — 

"  I  do." 

"  Then  we  ought  to  ask  for  nothing  more." 

"  If  he  stood  alone.    Unfortunately  he  does  n't." 

Arlt  raised  his  brows. 

"  But  the  risk  is  hers." 

[164] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Thayer  untied  his  necktie  with  a  long,  deliber 
ate  pull,  and  made  a  second  attempt  to  arrange  it 
to  his  liking.  At  length  he  turned  from  the 
mirror  and  faced  Arlt. 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  allow  Katarina  to 
take  such  a  risk  ?" 

"  No,11  Arlt  answered  honestly,  after  an  interval. 

Neither  man  spoke  for  some  time.  Arlt  was 
unwilling  to  continue  the  subject,  and  Thayer 
knew  from  experience  the  uselessness  of  trying  to 
force  him  to  talk  when  he  was  minded  to  keep 
silence.  It  was  Arlt,  however,  who  finally  broke 
the  silence,  and  his  subject  was  one  utterly  remote 
from  Lorimer. 

"  I  have  heard  from  the  mother,  to-day,""  he 
said  suddenly. 

"  Good  news,  I  hope."  Thayer's  tone  was  as 
hearty  as  if  he  had  felt  no  passing  annoyance  at 
the  boy's  stubborn  reticence. 

"The  best  that  can  be  for  them.  An  old 
cousin  has  died,  and  they  are  his  heirs." 

"Good!     Is  it  much?" 

"  Enough  so  they  can  live  in  comfort,  whatever 
happens  to  me." 

"  And  enough  so  that  you  can  live  in  comfort, 
without  anxiety  for  them,"  Thayer  supplemented 
kindly. 

[  165  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"Without  anxiety;  I  can  do  without  the  com 
fort,"  Arlt  replied.  "  I  have  worried  sometimes." 

Crossing  the  room,  Thayer  laid  his  hand  on 
the  boy's  shoulder. 

"  And  you  have  borne  the  worry  very  pluckily, 
too,  Arlt.  It  has  been  hard  for  you,  this  first 
year  in  America,  with  the  double  care  for  them 
and  for  yourself.  I  hope  things  are  going  to  be 
easier  now." 

"  It  will  be  a  help  in  my  work,"  he  assented. 
Then  he  added,  with  a  sudden  effort  which  showed 
how  dear  the  subject  was  to  his  heart,  "I  think  I 
shall  now  have  a  few  more  lessons  in  counterpoint." 

"  More  ?"  Thayer  said  interrogatively. 

"  Yes  ;  I  had  already  studied  for  two  years." 

"  And  you  want  to  compose  ?  " 

"  When  I  know  enough.     Not  till  then." 

"  It  takes  something  besides  the  knowing,  to 
make  a  composer,  Arlt,"  Thayer  said  warningly. 

"I  know.  But  I  think  I  have  something  to 
say,  when  I  am  ready,"  the  boy  answered,  with 
simple  directness. 

"  But,  if  you  wanted  to  study  counterpoint, 
why  did  n't  you  say  so  ?  You  knew  I  would  lend 
you  the  money." 

"  Yes,  you  would  give  me  everything ;  but  I 
could  never  accept  this." 

[166] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Why  not  ?  " 

Arlt  looked  up,  and  even  Thayer,  well  as  he 
knew  him,  was  surprised  at  the  sudden  concentra 
tion  of  character  in  the  boy's  face. 

"  One  will  be  helped  in  the  small  things,  never 
in  accomplishing  the  real  purpose  of  his  life. 
Each  one  of  us  must  work  that  out  for  himself. 
Then,  if  he  succeeds  or  fails,  at  least  the  result  is 
of  his  own  making."" 

Dismissing  four  or  five  importunate  cab  drivers 
with  a  brief  shake  of  his  head,  Thayer  went  strid 
ing  away  up  the  Avenue  towards  Miss  Gannion^s 
house.  As  he  went,  he  was  half-consciously 
applying  Arlfs  words  to  the  question  of  his  own 
future.  It  was  true  enough  that  he  must  work  out 
his  own  real  purpose  for  himself;  and,  in  one 
sense  the  unsuccessful  boy  was  happier  by  far  than 
the  successful  man.  Arlfs  purpose  was  single. 
Thayer's  was  two-fold,  and  as  yet  he  could  not 
determine  which  of  them  would  prove  to  be  the 
dominant  impulse  of  his  life. 

"  Really,  it  does  seem  very  good  to  drop  back 
into  the  old  ways,11  Miss  Gannion  said  contentedly, 
two  hours  later. 

The  loitering,  lingering  dinner  was  over ;  the 
servants  had  been  instructed  to  admit  no  other 
guests,  and  Miss  Gannion  was  snuggled  back  in 
[167] 


The  Dominant  St?~ain 


her  deep  chair,  gazing  up  at  Thayer  who  stood 
on  the  rug  with  his  hands  idly  locked  behind  his 
back.  In  this  room  which  showed  so  plainly  its 
feminine  occupancy,  he  seemed  uncommonly  virile, 
and  Miss  Gannion,  watching  him,  felt  a  momen 
tary  exultation  in  his  virility.  Most  of  the  men 
whom  she  knew,  put  on  a  feminine  languor  as  an 
adjunct  to  their  evening  clothes.  Thaver  looked 
down  upon  her  with  manifest  approval.  After 
months  of  separation,  it  was  good  to  find  himself 
in  the  presence  of  this  woman  to  whom  he  was 
allowed  to  speak  freely  his  real  opinion.  Miss 
Gannion  by  no  means  always  agreed  with  him  ; 
but  she  usually  understood  his  point  of  view  and 
was  willing  to  admit  its  weight.  Moreover,  she 
was  able  to  discuss  without  losing  her  temper,  and 
she  belonged  to  that  species  of  good  listener  who 
understands  that  an  occasional  word  of  compre 
hension  is  worth  more  than  hours  of  mere  silent 
attention. 

"  It  is  refreshing  to  get  back  to  a  place  where  my 
personality  counts  for  something,'1  Thayer  assured 
her.  "  The  past  two  months  have  left  me  feeling 
as  if  I  had  not  a  friend  in  the  world,  nothing 
but  audiences.11 

"  What  an  ingrate  you  are  !   Most  of  us  would 
be  willing  to  have  that  kind  of  impersonality.1' 
[  168  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"Would  you?" 

"  No,"  she  said  candidly.  "  I  "m  not  large 
enough  for  that." 

"  It  would  n't  have  occurred  to  me  that  it  was 
any  indication  of  largeness." 

"  To  be  able  to  resign  your  own  individuality, 
for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  you  can  give  other 
people  ?  That  seems  to  me  rather  large." 

"  It  depends.  I  think  I  would  rather  concen 
trate  my  efforts,  person  on  person,  instead  of 
spreading  myself  out  like  a  vast  impersonal 
plaster." 

She  laughed  a  little,  though  her  eyes  were  very 
grave. 

"  You  might  apply  your  theory  here  and  now. 
Go  and  sing  to  me,  not  a  new  song,  but  one  of 
the  old  favorites." 

Obediently  he  crossed  the  room  to  the  piano 
where  he  sat  for  an  hour,  now  singing,  now  stop 
ping  to  comment  on  a  song  or  to  relate  some  of 
his  experiences  of  the  past  two  months.  Later 
that  night,  when  Miss  Gannion  was  thinking 
over  the  talk  of  the  evening,  it  suddenly  occurred 
to  her  that  he  had  made  no  reference  at  all  to  the 
summer.  At  length  he  rose  to  return  to  the  fire. 

"  No,"  she  objected.     "  There  is  one  song  still 
lacking.     You  Ve  not  sung  The  Rosary  yet." 
[169] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


His  stride  across  the  room  never  hesitated, 
although  duller  ears  than  his  own  could  not  have 
mistaken  the  wish  in  her  voice. 

"  I  have  worn  out  The  Rosary"  he  said 
briefly.  "  I  shall  have  to  let  it  rest  for  a 
while/'' 

"  I  am  sorry.      I  loved  it." 

He  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"  It  is  the  weakest  kind  of  sentimentality,  Miss 
Gannion.  The  song  itself  amounts  to  very  little  ; 
it  is  merely  a  question  of  the  key." 

"  I  am  sorry ,"  she  repeated,  still  a  little  sadly. 
"  I  have  cared  a  good  deal  for  the  song." 

Thayer  made  no  answer,  and  she  sat  looking 
up  at  him  with  a  steady  wishfulness  which  made 
him  uneasy.  Her  next  words,  though  chosen  by 
chance,  increased  his  uneasiness. 

"  Have  you  seen  Miss  Dane,  since  you  came 
back?" 

"  I  was  there,  yesterday." 

"  How  did  she  seem  to  you  ?  " 

His  steady  eyes  met  hers  without  wavering. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  what  you  mean  by 
the  question." 

Miss  Gannion  varied  the  form  of  her  words. 

"  Did  you  think  she  looked  well  ?  " 

"  Very." 

[170] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  And  yet,  I  dorft  think  Beatrix  is  happy," 
Miss  Gannion  said,  half  to  herself. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  How  can  she  be  ?  Beatrix  is  not  dense.  She 
thinks  things,  and  she  must  know  the  uncertainty 
of  the  future." 

"  But  I  thought  it  was  quite  certain."  There 
was  a  level  monotony  in  Thayer's  accent. 

"  You  think  Mr.  Lorimer  has  really  reformed 
and  is  out  of  danger?"  Miss  Gannion  asked 
quickly. 

"  I  wish  he  had,"  Thayer  answered  half  invol 
untarily. 

"  Then  there  is  still  trouble  ?  " 

But  already  Thayer  was  once  more  upon  his 
guard. 

"  I  have  heard  of  nothing  since  I  came  home." 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Lorimer  ?  " 

"  No." 

There  was  a  curt  brevity  in  his  manner  which 
was  new  to  Miss  Gannion.  In  spite  of  herself,  it 
set  her  to  wondering  whether  prosperity  had  been 
good  for  her  friend,  whether  the  consciousness  of 
his  own  importance  were  making  him  indifferent 
to  the  interests  of  others.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it 
was  true  that  he  was  becoming  impersonal.  He 
might  be  growing  larger ;  he  was  certainly  grow- 
[171] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ing  more  remote  from  her  life.  Miss  Gannion 
cared  for  Thayer.  Now,  while  she  watched  him, 
her  eyes  were  lighted  with  an  almost  fierce  affec 
tion,  even  though  her  disappointment  made  her 
voice  take  on  a  hard,  metallic  ring,  as  she  asked,  — 

"  Are  you  turning  your  back  upon  the  problem 
of  your  old  friend,  Mr.  Thayer  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered  ;  *'  but  I  thought  we  had 
solved  it,  in  this  very  room." 

She  raised  her  brows  interrogatively. 

"'To  say  our  prayers,  and  wait,""'  he  quoted. 

Her  momentary  distrust  of  him  weakened,  and 
her  face  lighted,  as  she  heard  him  quoting  her 
own  words,  spoken  so  long  ago. 

"  Yes  ;    but  I  —  we  all  —  think  it  is  time  — 
think  it  may  be  a  mistake." 

He  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  fire,  looked  at  her 
steadily  for  a  minute,  and  then  stared  into  the 
fire  again.  She  grew  restless  with  the  stillness. 

"  And  we  thought  perhaps  you  could  say 
something." 

"  To  —  ?  "  he  asked,  without  raising  his  eyes. 

"  To  Mr.  Lorimer." 

"What  could  I  say?" 

"  Something  to  break  it  off." 

In  spite  of  himself,  he  laughed  outright. 

"  Would  you  advise    threats    or  bribery,  Miss 
[172] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Gannion  ?  I  really  can't  imagine  any  argument 
that  would  lead  Lorimer  to  give  up  Miss  Dane  of 
his  own  accord." 

"  Could  n't  you  put  it  to  him  strongly  that  he 
has  no  moral  right  to  hold  her  to  her  promise  ?  " 

"  I  could  ;  but  he  would  probably  put  it  to  me 
just  as  strongly  that  I  have  no  moral  right  to  in 
terfere  in  his  concerns." 

Miss  Gannion  sat  up  straight,  bracing  her  el 
bows  against  the  sides  of  her  chair. 

"  Mr.  Thayer,  have  you  any  idea  that  Mr. 
Lorimer  will  ever  give  up  drinking,  drinking 
more  than  is  good  for  him  ? " 

"  I  have  not." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  that  Beatrix,  if  she 
marries  him,  can  escape  years  of  anxiety  and 
wretchedness  ?  " 

"  I  have  not,"  he  answered  again. 

"  Oh,  how  cold  you  ai-e  !  "  she  cried,  in  passion 
ate  revolt  against  his  even  tone.  "  Don't  you 
care  anything  at  all  for  Beatrix  ? " 

If  he  flinched  at  her  question,  he  rallied  again 
too  quickly  for  her  to  discover  it.  Then  he 
looked  her  squarely  in  the  eye. 

"  I  would  do  anything  in  my  power  to  protect 
Miss  Dane ;  but  this  is  a  case  where  I  have  no 
right  to  speak  to  her.  I  have  spoken  to  Lorimer 


The  Dominant  Strain 


again  and  again,  urging  him  to  control  himself  for 
her  sake.  Beyond  that,  I  have  no  right  to  go." 

"  But  you  said  once  that  you  thought  she  ought 
to  be  told." 

"That  was  months  ago.  She  found  out,  with 
out  being  told." 

"  Not  all." 

"  Enough." 

"But,  if  she  knew  all  about  it,  all  that  you 
know,  Beatrix  Dane  would  never  marry  Sidney 
Lorimer." 

"  Very  likely  not." 

"Then  you  ought  to  tell  her.  What  right 
have  you  to  suppress  facts  that  would  change  her 
whole  point  of  view  ?  You  have  it  in  your 
power  to  save  Beatrix  Dane.  Once  you  were  will 
ing  to  do  it."  She  had  risen  and  stood  on  the 
rug,  facing  him.  Stung  by  his  coldness  and  by 
her  disappointment  in  him,  she  allowed  a  sudden 
note  of  hostility  to  creep  into  her  voice,  and  it 
cut  Thayer  like  the  edge  of  a  steel  knife. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  after  a  pause  ;  "  but  it 
is  too  late  for  that  now,  Miss  Gannion." 

His  words  were  more  true  than  he  realized. 
When,  after  a  half-hour  of  uncomfortable,  dis 
jointed  talk,  he  said  good-night  and  went  away, 
he  found  Lorimer  waiting  for  him  in  his  own 
[174] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


rooms.  Thayer's  greeting  was  curt,  for  he  was 
still  smarting  from  the  memory  of  his  talk  with 
Miss  Gannion.  He  had  been  impenetrable  to  her 
questions,  but  not  to  her  sharpness,  and  he  was 
hurt  by  the  disapproval  she  had  shown.  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  heard  the  curious  icy  tone 
in  her  voice  ;  it  had  struck  a  jarring  note  in  their 
friendship.  For  the  time  being,  Miss  Gannion  had 
distrusted  him  ;  but  at  least  she  had  gained  no  idea 
of  the  cause  of  his  changed  attitude.  For  so  much, 
he  was  thankful.  He  had  saved  his  own  respect  at 
the  risk  of  forfeiting  that  of  Miss  Gannion. 

Lorimer  met  him  excitedly ;  but  Thayers  ex 
perienced  eye  saw  that  the  excitement  had  no 
alcoholic  basis. 

"  Congratulations,  old  fellow  !  Everything  is 
settled  at  last,  and  we  are  to  be  married,  early  in 
January.  I  came  straight  to  you,  for  I  knew  you 
would  be  delighted.  Of  course,  I  shall  count  on 
you  as  best  man.'1'' 

It  would  never  have  occurred  to  Thayer  that 
there  was  need  to  brace  himself  against  any  possi 
ble  shock.  For  a  minute,  the  droplight  on  the 
table  seemed  to  be  dancing  a  Russian  tri-pac. 
Then,  just  as  it  was  ready  to  fall,  he  heard  his 
own  voice  saying,  with  exactly  the  proper  degree 
of  cordiality,  — 

[175] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  do  congratulate  you,  Lorimer,  and  I  am  de 
lighted  that  it  is  settled." 

Later  on,  he  knew  that  he  had  spoken  the  truth. 

"  And  you  will  be  best  man  ? "  Lorimer  ques 
tioned  eagerly. 

"Yes.  Who  else  has  better  claim?"  The 
conventional  note  was  still  there  ;  Thayer  felt  its 
aloofness  far  more  than  Lorimer,  absorbed  in  his 
own  joy,  was  able  to  do.  The  silence  was  short ; 
then  Thayer  mastered  himself  again.  "  Lorimer," 
he  said  quietly  ;  "  I  certainly  do  congratulate  you, 
for  you  have  been  able  to  gain  one  of  the  noblest 
women  in  the  world.  Your  happiness  ought  to 
be  great ;  but  you  have  taken  a  fearful  responsi 
bility  along  with  it.  At  your  best  you  can  be 
worthy  of  her ;  but,  if  you  fall  one  inch  below 
your  best  level,  you  will  deserve  to  be  flayed  alive. 
You  have  gone  into  this  with  your  eyes  open. 
You  know  that  you  can  make  Beatrix  Dane's 
life  a  heaven  or  a  hell.  You  and  I  both  know 
the  danger ;  we  know  that  she  is  running  a  terri 
ble  risk  in  marrying  you,  and  that  you  yourself 
are  the  only  person  who  can  save  her  from  shame 
and  sorrow.  For  God's  sake,  Lorimer,  do  all  you 
can  to  make  yourself  live  up  to  the  best  that  is  in 
you." 

[176] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER    THIRTEEN 

LATE  March  found  Thayer  just  complet 
ing  a  long  circle.  He  had  gone  to 
Chicago  by  way  of  Washington ;  he  was 
coming  back  by  way  of  Canada  and  New  England. 
Oratorio  societies  were  rampant,  that  Lent,  and 
he  had  been  the  popular  baritone  of  the  season, 
completely  ousting  from  public  favor  the  bass 
who  had  monopolized  the  applause  for  six  or 
seven  years  previous.  He  had  fainted  under 
Elijah's  juniper  tree  times  without  number,  until 
he  had  learned  to  watch  with  cynical  interest  for 
the  phrase  which  never  failed  to  draw  forth  the 
tears.  He  had  even  taken  part  in  one  grand 
operatic  rendition  of  the  work,  when  the  audience 
had  been  half  strangled  by  the  too  realistic  fumes 
from  the  altar,  and  the  chorus,  huddled  at  the 
back  of  the  stage,  had  sung  the  Rain  Chorus  off 
the  key,  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  torrent 
which  poured  down  in  a  thin  sheet  just  back  of 
the  curtain,  raining  neither  on  the  just  nor  on  the 
unjust,  but  falling  accurately  into  the  groove  for 
12  [  177  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  footlights  between  them.  He  had  sung  The 
Messiah  and  Armlnlus  until  they  were  a  weariness 
to  his  flesh,  and  Hiawatha's  call  to  Gitche  Manlto, 
the  Mighty  had  become  second  nature  to  his  tongue. 
He  had  moments  of  acute  longing  to  astound  his 
audience  with  a  German  student  song,  and,  upon 
his  off  nights,  he  fell  into  the  vaudeville  habit. 
Not  even  his  Puritanism  could  enjoy  an  unlimited 
diet  of  oratorio. 

At  first  there  had  been  some  question  of  his 
giving  a  number  of  recitals  at  different  points  on 
his  journey  ;  but  he  had  renounced  the  idea. 
Arlt  was  grinding  away  at  counterpoint  under  the 
best  master  to  be  found  in  New  York,  and  Arlt 
was  the  only  accompanist  with  whom  Thayer 
cared  to  sing.  The  boy  had  no  notion  that 
Thayer  needed  him  ;  neither  did  he  have  any  idea 
of  the  discrepancy  between  his  own  payments  and 
the  actual  fees  of  the  great  musician  with  whom 
Thayer  had  advised  him  to  study.  Week  by 
week,  he  brought  his  few  dollars,  without  once 
suspecting  that  Thayers  monthly  checks  were 
really  paying  for  the  lessons. 

Arlt  had  fallen  to  work  with  the  eagerness  born 

of  long  and  enforced  abstinence.     Certain  musical 

themes  had  been  haunting  him  for  the  past  two 

years  ;  yet  he  had  known  that  he  lacked  the  train- 

[178] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ing  which  should  enable  him  to  develop  them 
properly,  and,  with  rare  self-denial,  rather  than 
spoil  them  he  had  turned  his  back  upon  them  and 
tried  to  forget  them.  Now,  however,  his  work 
was  beginning  to  tell  upon  him,  and  his  teacher 
was  more  and  more  encouraging,  while  the  old 
themes  came  back  to  him,  grown  and  enriched  by 
their  season  of  lying  fallow.  Spurred  on  by  the 
consciousness  of  all  this,  Arlt  was  hard  at  work 
upon  an  overture  with  which  he  hoped  to  greet 
Thayer  on  his  return  to  the  city.  Day  by  day, 
the  overture  was  growing.  It  was  boyish;  yet  it 
was  dignified  and  original. 

On  the  last  morning  of  his  trip,  Thayer  came 
down  the  steps  of  his  hotel,  halted  to  stare  about 
him  at  the  streets  of  the  leisurely  little  city,  and 
then  sauntered  away  towards  the  hall  where  the 
rehearsal  was  to  take  place.  It  was  still  early ; 
nevertheless,  as  he  came  within  sight  01  the  build 
ing,  he  found  the  street  filled  with  the  members 
of  the  orchestra  who,  thriftily  refusing  cabs,  had 
marched  up  from  the  station  in  a  solid  phalanx, 
laden  with  all  manner  of  strange-looking  bags  and 
cases.  Thayer  nodded  to  them  with  a  certain 
eagerness.  After  two  months  of  wandering,  it 
was  good  to  find  himself  once  more  within  the 
New  York  radius.  He  had  sung  with  these  men 
[179] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


often  ;  they  knew  every  trick  of  his  voice,  and  he 
could  count  upon  them  not  to  break  into  a  gallop 
ing  rhythm  in  the  midst  of  a  minor  (tndantt'. 
Ilis  face  lighted,  and  his  tongue  fell  into  his 
beloved  German  idioms,  as  he  went  up  the  stairs 
with  a  bass  viol  and  u  bassoon  on  either  hand. 

The  director  of  the  chorus  was  also  a  New 
York  man,  and  Thayer  shook  hands  with  him 
cordially,  wondering,  meanwhile,  how  it  chanced 
that  one  short  vear  had  made  him  feel  that  New 
York  was  home  to  him.  The  director  knew  Arlt's 
teacher,  too.  lie  had  heard  of  the  young  Ger 
man's  promise,  and  it  was  with  some  regret  that 
Thaver  heard  him  break  off  from  these  congenial 
themes,  for  the  sake  of  introducing  him  to  the 
officers  of  the  society  who  were  unduly  agitated  by 
the  consciousness  that  they  had  captured  both 
Thayer  and  the  latest  English  tenor  who  had 
landed  only  the  week  before  and  was  to  make  his 
American  debut,  that  evening. 

Meanwhile,  the  hall  was  filling  fast.  The 
chorus,  chattering  with  the  nervous  vivacity  which 
always  heralds  a  concert,  were  crowding  into 
the  fraction  of  space  allotted  to  them  ;  and,  in 
the  open  floor  beyond,  the  musicians  of  the 
orchestra  were  gathered  into  lit  tie  groups,  unpack 
ing  their  instruments,  unfolding  their  racks  and 
[180] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


eying  the  chorus  with  metropolitan  disdain.  Here 
and  there  a  violinist,  his  violin  at  his  shoulder, 
sauntered  up  and  down  the  floor,  alternately  draw 
ing  his  bow  across  the  strings  and  lowering  it 
again,  while  he  tightened  them.  Then,  in  answer 
to  the  call  from  the  oboe,  the  whole  place  grew 
filled  with  their  din,  discordant  at  first,  but  slowly 
coming  into  more  and  more  perfect  harmony, 
uniting  upon  the  single  note,  breaking  again  into 
countless  changing  tones,  only  to  yield  once  more 
to  the  single  A,  caught,  dropped  during  an  in 
stant's  pause,  then  caught  again  and  held  in  long- 
drawn,  jubilant  sonority. 

On  the  heels  of  the  other  soloists,  Thayer  picked 
his  way  up  the  narrow  aisle  at  the  right  of  the 
tenors,  and  took  his  seat  upon  the  little  stage. 
As  he  did  so,  he  discovered  a  diminutive  gallery 
directly  over  the  main  entrance  to  the  hall.  Side 
by  side  in  the  gallery  sat  two  men,  the  president 
of  the  chorus  and  Bobby  Dane. 

Bobby  was  beaming  down  at  him  placidly,  and 
Thayer's  face  lighted  at  the  unexpected  sight  of 
his  friend.  Bobby  nodded  occasionally,  to  mark 
his  approval  of  the  music  ;  then,  at  the  end  of 
Thayer's  first  solo,  he  laid  his  score  on  the  gallery 
rail  and  led  off  a  volley  of  applause  which,  echoing 
back  from  the  chorus,  roused  Bobby  to  such  a 
[181] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


pitch  of  enthusiasm  that  he  knocked  the  score  off 
the  rail  and  sent  it  tumbling  down  among  the 
rear  ranks  of  the  altos. 

"Why  the  unmentionable  mischief  do  you 
waste  your  energies,  singing  like  that  at  a  rehear 
sal?1'  he  demanded  abruptly  of  Thayer,  as  he 
joined  him  on  the  stairs. 

"Where  the  unmentionable  mischief  did  you 
come  from  ?  "  Thayer  responded,  seizing  Bobby's 
hand  in  his  own  firm  clasp. 

"  New  York.  Just  came  up,  this  morning. 
I  'm  doing  the  concert,  to-night." 

"  Oh  !  I  was  under  the  impi'ession  that  I  was 
going  to  do  a  part  of  it,  myself." 

"  Musically.  I  represent  the  power  of  the 
Press." 

"  As  critic  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  How  long  since  ?  " 

"  To-day.  The  regular  critic  is  busy  with  a 
domestic  funeral,  his  grandmother,  or  step-mother, 
or  something,  and  it  lay  between  the  devil  and 
me  to  take  his  place.  Strange  to  say,  the  Chief 
chose  me ;  but  he  was  morose  enough  to  say  the 
old  lady  should  n't  have  died,  just  when  all  the 
other  papers  in  town  were  sending  up  their  best 
critics." 

[182] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  But  how  do  you  expect  to  get  up  a  criticism  ?  " 
Bobby  smiled  up  at  him  in  smug  satisfaction 
over  his  own  wiliness. 

"  By  caressing  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness. 
I  know  you  ;  likewise  the  president  of  this  chorus 
was  in  my  prep,  school.  I  happened  to  hear  of 
him,  last  week,  and  I  am  banking  on  the  fact  for 
all  it  is  worth.  Therefore  I  have  two  strings  to 
my  bow.  That 's  more  than  one  of  your  second 
violins  did.  To  my  certain  knowledge,  he  wrecked 
two  strings  in  the  overture  and  one  in  the  prelude 
of  your  first  solo.  After  that,  I  got  interested 
and  lost  count." 

"  Do  you  expect  us  to  dictate  our  own  praises  ?" 
"  Not  much.  I  am  too  canny  for  that.  Be 
sides,  don't  be  too  sure  they  will  be  praises.  No ; 
I  have  asked  the  president,  in  strict  confidence, 
just  what  he  thinks  of  you,  and  his  answer  was 
properly  garrulous.  His  originality  was  startling, 
too.  He  observed  that  you  have  temperament. 
Now  I  am  proceeding  to  ask  you,  also  in  strict 
confidence,  what  you  think  of  the  chorus." 

"  That  it  has  intemperament,"  Thayer  responded 
promptly.  "  Dane,  I  abhor  that  word." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  you  coined  its  negative  ?" 
"  No ;    but    it    gets  on    my  nerves.     When    it 
started  out  into  service,  it  meant  something ;  but 
[183] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


now  it  is  used  to  express  everything,  from  real 
artistic  feeling  down  to  the  way  a  man  rolls  up  his 
eyes  when  he  sings  love  songs.  I  wish  you  news 
paper  men  would  bring  out  something  new  to  take 
its  place.  You  can  do  it ;  you  generally  set  the 
fashion  in  words." 

"  1 11  ask  Lee,  when  he  gets  over  his  funeral,'" 
Bobby  suggested.  "  It  is  out  of  my  line.  I  am  a 
greater  artist  than  he  is,  a  typographical  song 
without  words.  I  do  scareheads,  and  buffet  the 
devil.  Thayer?" 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  Do  you  honestly  enjoy  this  sort  of  thing  ?  " 

Thayer  glanced  down  at  the  muddy  crossing 
where  they  stood  waiting  for  a  car  to  pass. 

"  No.  I  prefer  an  occasional  street-cleaning 
episode ;  but  what  can  you  expect  in  a  March 
thaw  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  Bobby  said  impatiently. 
"I'm  not  joking  now." 

"Beg  pardon,"  Thayer  returned  briefly. 
"  What  do  you  mean,  Dane  ?  " 

"  I  mean  all  this  tramping  round  the  country, 
singing  to  strange  people,  getting  applause  at 
night  and  reading  about  yourself,  next  day. 
Does  n't  it  get  a  frightful  bore,  after  the  dozenth 
time  you  Ve  been  through  it  ?  " 
[184] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  The  applause  and  the  audience  and  the 
criticisms,  yes.  The  singing,  no,"  Thayer  said, 
after  an  interval. 

"  And  you  're  willing  to  put  up  with  one  for 
the  sake  of  the  other  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Bobby  dodged  a  shower  of  mud  from  a  pass 
ing  cab. 

"Well,  tastes  differ,  then.  In  New  York, 
we've  been  going  on  the  same  old  routine,  and 
yet  no  two  days  have  been  alike,  except  in  the 
minor  detail  of  missing  you  at  places.  You  have 
been  in  twenty  different  cities,  and  I  'd  be  willing 
to  bet  that  your  routine  has  n't  varied :  sleeper, 
hotel,  rehearsal,  concert,  applause,  wreath,  supper, 
hotel,  bed,  and  so  on  around  the  circuit  again  and 
again.  And  you  say  the  singing  pays  for  it.  It 
does  pay  us  ;  but  you  can't  hear  yourself,  Thayer, 
not  to  get  any  good  of  it.  If  it  is  n't  the  applause 
and  such  stuff,  what  do  you  do  it  for  ?  " 

Thayer  glanced  down  at  the  man  beside  him. 
He  liked  Bobby  Dane,  and,  for  the  moment,  he 
felt  moved  to  discard  his  customary  reticence  in 
regard  to  his  art. 

"  For  the  sake  of  feeling  myself  picked  up  and 
carried  along  by  something  quite  outside  myself, 
something  I  am  powerless  to  analyze,  or  to 
[185] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


master ;  yet  something  that  I  can  help  to  express," 
he  answered. 

Bobby  accepted  the  lesson  in  silence.  Then  of 
a  sudden  his  whimsical  fun  reasserted  itself. 

"  Must  feel  a  good  deal  like  getting  drunk,"  he 
commented  gravely.  "  And  a  promos  des  bottes, 
Beatrix  is  at  home  again." 

Thayer's  shoulders  straightened,  his  step  grew 
rhythmic  once  more. 

"  When  did  she  come  ?  " 

"  She  landed,  ten  days  ago,  and  they  went  right 
to  the  new  house.  She  is  going  to  send  out  cards 
for  Mondays  in  May;  but,  meanwhile,  we  are 
coming  in  for  an  earlier  event.  There 's  a  note  at 
your  rooms  now,  asking  you  to  dine  with  them, 
next  Monday.11 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because,  like  a  coy  maiden,  I  named  the  day. 
It  is  a  sort  of  post-nuptial  event,  the  maid  of 
honor,  the  best  man,  and  the  master  of  ceremonies, 
meaning  myself.  She  was  n't  going  to  ask  me, 
because  it  would  spoil  the  number ;  but  I  told  her 
I  would  make  a  point  of  being  there,  and  that 
Monday  was  my  most  convenient  day.  It  will 
give  us  our  first  chance  to  talk  over  the  wedding." 

"  How  does  she  —  Mrs.  Lorimer  look  ?  " 

"  She  Mrs.  Lorimer  looks  very  natural,"  Bobby 
[186] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


replied  gravely.  "  As  a  rule,  we  only  say  a  per 
son  looks  natural  after  his  demise  ;  but  I  assure 
you  that  Beatrix  is  very  much  alive.11 

"  And  happy  ?  "  Thayer  asked  involuntarily. 

Bobby  gave  him  a  swift,  sharp  glance.  Then 
he  resumed  his  former  nonchalant  air. 

"  As  happy  as  one  always  is  at  landing  after 
five  days  of  acute  sea-sickness.  They  pursued  a 
storm,  all  the  way  home.  They  did  n't  catch  it, 
though,  except  in  the  figurative  sense  of  our 
remote  childhood.  I  never  saw  Beatrix  look  so 
happy  in  her  life  as  when  she  planted  her  second 
foot  safely  on  the  pier.1'' 

"  What  about  Lorirner  ?  " 

Bobby  shook  his  broad  shoulders,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  shaking  off  a  disagreeable  subject. 

"  Oh,  he 's  all  right,11  he  said  shortly. 

Together  the  two  men  idled  away  the  after 
noon.  Bobby  would  fain  have  introduced  Thayer 
to  his  own  brother  craftsmen  who  infested  the 
hotel  in  the  hope  of  getting  speech  with  the 
artists ;  but  Thayer  had  little  liking  for  being 
interviewed,  and  preferred  to  divide  his  time 
between  his  own  room  and  the  streets.  He  and 
Bobby  had  an  apparently  limitless  fund  of  talk, 
and  their  conversation  wandered  at  will  over  the 
events  of  the  past  two  months.  However,  as  all 
[187] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


roads  lead  to  Rome,  so  all  subjects  led  to  Beatrix. 
When  they  came  around  to  her  in  their  discussion, 
Thayer  invariably  changed  the  subject;  yet  even 
a  few  words  on  a  constantly  recurring  theme  can 
end  by  illuminating  that  theme  perfectly,  pro 
vided  only  that  it  recurs  often  enough.  By  the 
time  Thayer  was  dressing  for  the  concert,  that 
night,  he  was  in  full  possession  of  all  Bobby 
Dane's  facts  concerning  his  cousin,  and  he  was 
convinced  that  all  was  not  well  with  Lorimer. 

With  a  commendable  spirit  of  originality,  the 
officers  of  the  chorus  had  broken  away  from  the 
established  rule  which  proclaimed  it  an  Elijah 
season,  and  had  chosen  to  give  St.  Paul,  that 
night.  Thayer  liked  the  oratorio.  It  seemed 
to  him  more  original,  more  inspired,  infinitely 
more  human  than  the  other.  Moreover,  it  would 
be  restful  to  keep  silent  and  let  the  tenor 
warble  himself  to  a  lingering  death.  Even  fiery 
chariots  become  monotonous  in  time,  and  an  in 
dignant  mob  affords  a  welcome  variety.  He  had 
not  heard  the  tenor  since  they  had  sung  together 
in  Berlin,  two  years  before,  and  he  was  looking  for 
ward  to  the  evening  with  a  good  deal  of  pleasure. 

To  his  surprise  and  annoyance,  he  found  the 
music  stopping  short  at  his  tympani,  powerless  to 
enter  his  brain.  When  he  jolted  himself  out  of  his 
[188] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


train  of  subconscious  thought,  he  was  aware  that 
the  orchestra  was  superb,  that  his  old  friend,  the 
tenor,  had  added  many  cubits  to  his  artistic 
stature,  during  the  past  two  years,  that  he  him 
self,  Cotton  Mather  Thayer,  would  have  to  use 
his  best  efforts  if  he  did  not  wish  to  occupy  an 
entirely  subordinate  place  upon  the  programme. 
Then  he  recurred  to  his  thought  of  Beatrix  and 
Lorimer.  If  Lorimer  had  not  kept  a  straight 
course  during  his  honeymoon,  what  hope  was  there 
for  either  himself  or  Beatrix  in  the  many,  many 
moons  to  come  ? 

The  strings  and  the  wind  took  up  the  Allegro, 
and  Thayer  rose.  Lorimer,  if  he  had  been  present, 
would  have  known  what  to  expect  from  the 
straightening  of  his  shoulders  and  the  sudden 
squaring  of  his  jaw  ;  but  Bobby  Dane,  who  had 
been  watching  the  apathy  in  which  his  friend  was 
buried,  was  distinctly  nervous.  Then,  at  the  first 
note,  his  nervousness  vanished,  leaving  in  its  place 
only  wondering  admiration.  Bobby  had  supposed 
he  knew  what  Thayer  could  do ;  but  he  was 
totally-  unprepared  for  the  furious  dignity  with 
which  the  singer  rendered  his  aria,  — 


"  Consume  them  all, 

Pour  out   Thine   indignation,   and  let  them  feel   Thy 
power." 

[189] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


The  applause  did  not  wait  for  the  orchestra 
to  slide  comfortably  back  to  the  tonic.  It  broke 
out  promptly  upon  the  final  note,  and  it  satisfied 
even  Bobby.  Thayer  bowed  his  acknowledg 
ments,  and  then  returned  to  his  reverie ;  but  he 
roused  himself  again  at  the  Adagio  which  an 
nounced  his  second  aria. 

Then  it  was,  in  Paul's  outcry  for  mercy,  for  the 
blotting  out  of  his  transgressions,  that  Bobby 
Dane  understood  what  Thayer  had  meant,  that 
noon,  when  he  had  spoken  of  being  carried  along 
by  something  outside  of  himself.  Bobby  knew 
Thayer  as  a  quiet,  self-contained  man  of  the 
world ;  the  Thaver  who  was  singing  that  great 
aria  was  on  fire  with  a  passionate  madness,  ting 
ling  with  unfulfilled  longing,  striving  against  his 
whole  temperament  for  peace  and  for  pardon. 
Bobby  knew  all  this ;  he  dimly  realized,  more 
over,  that  the  singer  was  fired  by  love  for  the  wife 
of  his  friend,  burning  with  the  surety  that  his 
friend  was  unworthy  of  her,  and  struggling  with 
all  the  manhood  there  was  in  him  to  face  that 
love  and  that  surety  with  the  stoic  calm  of  one 
of  his  Puritan  ancestors,  to  quench  the  fire  and 
to  cover  the  ashes. 

Bobby  joined  him  in  the  wings,  at   the    close 
of  the  concert.     Even  in  the  dim  light,  he  could 
[190] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


see  that  Thayer  looked  whiter  than  his  wont, 
and  that  the  veins  in  his  temples  stood  out  like 
knotted  cords. 

"  What  business  have  you  to  be  doing  ora 
torio  ? "  Bobby  demanded,  as  soon  as  they  could 
struggle  a  little  apart  from  the  gossiping,  gushing 
ranks  of  the  chorus  which  surrounded  them,  pull 
ing  surreptitious  bits  from  Thayer's  mammoth 
wreath  of  laurel. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  Thayer  asked  calmly. 

"  Because  you  are  throwing  away  the  best  of 
yourself.  Putting  you  into  oratorio  is  like  icing 
tea.  You  belong  in  grand  opera."" 

Thayer  raised  his  brows  dissentingly. 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so,  Dane ;  but  I  am 
afraid  I  should  only  disappoint  you,"  he  answered, 
and  his  tone  was  not  altogether  jovial,  as  he 
said  it. 


[191] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   FOURTEEN 

"  TT   DONT  expect    to    be    consistent,"   Sally 
retorted.     "  I  'm  only  an  ill-assorted  snarl 

-*-  of  threads  ravelled  out  from  my  different 
ancestors." 

"  That  ?s  dodging  the  responsibility,  Miss  Van 
Osdel." 

Bobby  lifted  an  oyster  and  held  it  up  to  view. 

"  I  never  did  approve  of  shunting  off  our  sins 
on  the  shoulders  of  our  ancestors,"  he  observed. 
"  They  sin ;  we  get  the  come-uppance.  You 
might  as  well  say  that  the  grandfather  of  this 
oyster  is  directly  responsible  for  his  being  eaten 
alive." 

"  No  man's  sin  is  wholly  his  own  doing," 
Lorimer  said  half  bitterly. 

There  was  a  sudden  pause,  as  they  all  came 
to  a  realizing  sense  that  Sally^s  idle  words  had 
sent  them  sliding  out  upon  thin  ice.  Bobby  was 
the  first  to  rally. 

"  True  for  you,  Lorimer  !  "  he  assented  cheerily. 
"  That  is  one  of  the  doctrines  I  have  spent  my 
[  192] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


life  trying  to  impress  on  the  governor.  I  wish  he 
felt  it  more  borne  in  upon  him.  But,  as  you 
were  saying,  Sally,  you  Ye  not  expecting  to  become 
consistent.  I  'm  glad,  for  you  won't  be  dis 
appointed.  The  brightest  jewel  in  your  crown 
will  have  to  be  of  another  color." 

"  What  color  is  consistency,  Bobby  ?  "  his  cousin 
asked. 

"  Green,  of  course,  reflected  from  the  jealous 
eyes  of  the  ninety  and  nine  sinners  who  have  n't 
the  virtue." 

"  I  'm  not  at  all  certain  that  I  wish  to  be  con 
sistent,"  Sally  asserted. 

"  So  glad  for  your  sake ! "  Bobby  returned 
quickly. 

Thayer  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"Because  consistent  people  are  such  bores, 
Miss  Van  Osdel?" 

"  So  you  are  a  heretic,  too  ?  And  then  they 
are  so  smug." 

"  But  there 's  consistency  and  consistency," 
Bobby  argued.  "There's  mashed  potato  and 
frappe,  for  instance,  equally  hard,  equally  homo 
geneous,  yet  totally  different.  To  my  mind, 
there  is  a  distinct  choice  between  them,  and  I 
prefer  —  " 

"Cherries  in  your  frappe."  Sally  capped  his 
13  [  193  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


sentence  for  him.  "  In  other  words,  we  all  like 
a  consistent  person  with  lumps  of  inconsistency. 
That's  myself,  and  one  of  my  lumps  is  a  dislike 
of  having  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  on  our  tenement 
committee.'1'' 

"  But,  if  you  are  slumming  —  " 

"That  is  ignoble  of  you,  Beatrix.  The  com 
mittee  does  n't  slum  within  its  own  confines." 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  that  at  all,""  Beatrix  pro 
tested  hastily.  "  Really,  though.  I  can't  see  why 
you  and  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  can't  unite  in  work 
ing  for  somebody  quite  outside  either  of  your 
worlds." 

Sally  raised  her  brows  in  saucy  imitation  of 
Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons's  pet  expression.  Then  she 
pushed  Beatrix's  words  aside  with  daintily  out 
stretched  fingers. 

"  Can't  you  ?  "  she  said  coolly,  as  she  ended  her 
little  pantomime.  "  Well,  I  can.  To  adopt 
Bobby's  choice  illustration,  it  would  be  like  mix 
ing  potato  and  frappe.  The  potato  would  melt 
the  frappe,  and  then  the  frappe  would  —  well, 
would  render  the  potato  unpalatable.  •  In  other 
words,  if  we  work  together,  I  shall  pulverize  Mrs. 
Lloyd  Avalons,  and  then  the  dust  of  her  individu 
ality  will  get  in  among  my  nerves  and  clog  them.'1 

"  If  you  can't  be  consistent,  Miss  Van  Osdel, 
[  194] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


please  do  try  to  be  concrete,"  Thayer  urged.  "  I 
confess  that  I  find  it  a  little  difficult  to  follow 
you." 

"Not  at  all,"  Bobby  interposed.  "She  isn't 
going  anywhere.  Sally's  mental  processes  always 
remind  me  of  the  way  we  used  to  play  cars  in  a 
row  of  easy  chairs.  We  were  extremely  energetic, 
and  we  pretended  that  we  were  going  somewhere  ; 
but  in  reality  we  did  n't  budge  an  inch.  Sally, 
what  is  the  reason  you  don't  like  Mrs.  Lloyd 
Avalons  ?" 

"  Because  she  is  utterly  preposterous,"  Sally 
replied  concisely. 

"  And  yet,  she  is  bound  to  arrive,  some  day," 
Lorimer  said  thoughtfully. 

"Then  I  hope  it  may  not  be  until  after  I  have 
left,"  Sally  retorted.  "  I  don't  care  to  have  her 
making  connections  with  me." 

"  Sally,  you  are  uncharitable,"  Beatrix  said 
rebukingly  ;  but  Bobby  interrupted,  — 

"  That 's  more  than  you  can  say  of  Mrs.  Lloyd 
Avalons.  She  is  on  half  the  charity  committees 
in  town." 

"  How  did  she  get  there  ?  "  Thayer  asked,  with 
unfeigned  curiosity. 

"  By  toiling  upward,  day  and  night.  That 's 
where  she  scores  ahead  of  the  great  men.  Ac- 
I  195  1 


The  Dominant  Strain 


cording  to  the  poet,  they  only  belonged  to  the 
night  shift.  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  sleeps  with  the 
Blue  Book  under  her  pillow  and  dreams  social 
combinations.'" 

"  She  probably  has  a  chess  board  always  at  her 
elbow,"  Sally  suggested.  "  I  can  fancy  the  game, 
the  white  queen  and  her  pawn  against  the  whole 
black  force,  each  man  neatly  tagged  with  his 
name  and  social  status." 

"  She  is  marching  straight  into  the  king-row, 
though,""  Bobby  added. 

Beatrix  called  them  to  order. 

"  Does  it  strike  you  that  this  is  perilously  near 
to  being  gossip?'1  she  inquired. 

But  Sally  had  the  last  word. 

"  It  "s  not  gossip  to  talk  over  the  possibilities 
of  the  lower  classes,1"  she  remarked  imperturbably. 
"  It  is  social  science." 

Lorirner  went  back  to  the  original  question 
which  had  started  the  discussion. 

*'  As  I  said  before,  there  is  a  certain  inconsist 
ency  in  the  idea  of  a  given  number  of  women  set 
ting  themselves  to  work  to  better  the  condition  of 
the  masses,  and  then  coming  to  wreck  and  ruin 
because  one  of  their  number  is  of  a  slightly 
different  set." 

"  Slightly  inferior,"  Sally  corrected  him. 
[196] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Lorimer  accepted  the  amendment. 

"  Inferior,  then,  if  you  choose.  But  we  are 
talking  of  the  theory  in  the  abstract,  not  of  any 
particular  case.  One  hardly  expects  to  find  snob 
bishness  in  slumming." 

"  Then  that  "s  where  one  gets  left,"  Bobby  com 
mented,  by  way  of  parenthesis. 

"  But  if  you  are  all  stooping  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  the  alignment  is  better,  if  we  all 
stoop  at  the  same  angle,"  Sally  protested. 

"  What  I  wish  to  know,"  Thayer  said  thought 
fully  ;  "  is  where  the  deadline  of  propriety  exists. 
Take  the  case  of  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons,  for  instance. 
Why  does  she  take  Patsey  Keefe  to  her  heart 
and  home,  and  snub  Arlt  upon  all  occasions  ?  " 

"  Because  she  wishes  to  maintain  a  proper  per 
spective,"  Sally  replied.  "  Everyone  knows  that 
Patsey  and  she  are  chums  from  choice ;  with  Mr. 
Arlt,  there  might  be  a  question.  Legitimate 
slumming  presupposes  two  willing  parties,  the 
slummer  and  the  slummed." 

"  In  other  words,"  Bobby  added  ;  "  it  is  socially 
possible  to  foregather  with  the  slum  in  the  next 
ward ;  it  is  death  to  speak  to  the  undesirable 
neighbor  in  the  back  alley.  The  fact  is  ordained  ; 

O  •/ 

but    it    will    take   several   generations   of    social 
scientists  to  ferret  out  the  cause." 
[197] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Sally  addressed  the  table  at  large. 

"  For  my  part,  I  like  Mr.  Arlt,"  she  said  flatly. 
"What's  more,  I  am  going  with  him  to  the 
Kneisel  concert,  to-morrow  night ;  and,  if  any  of 
you  are  there  and  choose  to  eye  me  askance,  you 
are  welcome.11 

Later,  that  evening,  Thayer  found  himself  with 
Beatrix  and  a  little  apart  from  the  others.  The 
dinner  had  been  utterly  informal,  and  it  had  been 
tacitly  understood  that  the  guests  should  linger 
afterwards.  It  was  only  ten  days  since  the  Lori- 
mers  had  landed  from  their  European  honeymoon, 
and  as  yet  they  felt  themselves  privileged  to  hold 
themselves  a  little  aloof  from  the  social  treadmill. 
Though  the  breakfast  table,  each  morning,  was 
littered  with  cards  and  notes  of  invitation,  yet  the 
season  was  in  their  favor.  Lent  had  entered  upon 
its  last  week,  and  even  the  largest  functions 
clothed  themselves  in  penitential  and  becoming 
shades  of  violet.  Accordingly,  it  had  been  a  source 
of  little  self-denial  for  Bobby  and  Sally  to  give  up 
their  other  engagements  for  the  evening.  As  for 
Thayer,  he  invariably  went  his  own  way,  invited 
everywhere  and  appearing  only  in  the  places  which 
suited  his  mood  of  the  hour.  It  was  the  one  pro 
fessional  luxury  that  he  allowed  himself. 

To  his  keen  eye,  Beatrix  looked  as  if  she  were 
[198] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


carrying  a  heavy  burden  of  care.  She  was  as 
alert  as  ever;  her  social  training  was  bound  to 
ensure  that.  But  between  her  conversational 
sallies,  her  face  settled  into  certain  fixed  lines  that 
were  new  to  Thayer.  Even  during  the  past  two 
months,  her  lips  had  grown  firmer ;  but  her  lids 
drooped  more  often,  as  if  to  hide  some  secret 
which  otherwise  might  be  betrayed  by  her  eyes. 
Up  to  this  time,  Thayer  had  never  called  her 
especially  pretty.  She  was  handsome,  perhaps ; 
but  her  face  was  too  cold,  too  austere.  Now,  how 
ever,  it  seemed  to  him  full  of  possibilities  for 
beauty,  softer,  infinitely  more  loving.  In  the  old 
days,  the  curve  of  her  lips  had  been  haughty ; 
to-night,  their  firmer  lines  appeared  to  him  like  a 
mask  worn  to  conceal  the  gentler  womanhood 
within.  She  was  thinner,  too  ;  but  browned  by 
her  sea  voyage,  and  she  carried  herself  with  the 
nameless  dignity  which  comes  to  a  woman  upon 
her  bridal  day. 

Lorimer  appeared  to  be  in  the  pink  of  condi 
tion.  He  was  more  handsome  than  ever,  more 
graciously  winning.  His  voice  had  all  the  old 
caressing  intonations  which  Thayer  recalled  so 
well,  together  with  many  new  ones  that  crept  into 
his  tone  whenever  he  addressed  his  wife.  By  look 
and  word  and  gesture,  he  referred  and  deferred  to 
[199] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


her  constantly  ;  and  his  eyes  never  failed  to  light, 
when  they  rested  upon  her  own.  No  man  could 
have  been  more  frankly  and  openly  in  love  with 
his  own  wife. 

"  Then  I  take  it  for  granted  that  the  trip  has 
been  a  success,'"  Thayer  said,  as  he  joined  her. 

"  Indeed  it  has.  Mr.  Lori  in er  took  me  to  all 
his  old  haunts  and,  in  Berlin,  to  all  of  yours  that 
he  could  find.  We  went  to  your  old  lodgings, 
and  we  heard  a  concert  in  the  hall  where  you  made 
your  debut  and,  the  last  day  we  were  there, 
Sidney  insisted  upon  hunting  up  your  old  master. " 

Thayer  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  The  dear  old  Maestro !  Did  he  remember 
me  ? "  he  asked,  with  a  boyish  enthusiasm  which 
sat  well  upon  him. 

"  Certainly  he  did,  if  remember  is  the  right 
word,  for  his  knowledge  of  you  was  not  all  in  the 
past  tense.  He  has  followed  you  closely,  and  he 
knows  just  what  you  have  done.  Mr.  Thayer," 
she  added  abruptly ;  "  why  have  you  never  sung 
in  opera?'1 

"Why  should  I?" 

"  Because  he  said  that  there  was  your  especial 
talent,  only  he  called  it  by  a  stronger  name.  He 
jeers  at  the  work  you  are  doing." 

Thayer  smiled. 

[200  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  am  sorry.      I  thought  it  was  good  work." 

"  So  it  is,  as  far  as  it  goes.  But  the  other  goes 
farther." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  assented.  "  But  do  you  think  it 
is  as  —  as  —  " 

"Good  form?"  she  queried,  laughing.  "  Yes, 
if  you  choose  to  have  it  so.  It  depends  something 
upon  the  individual.  With  your  training  and 
traditions,  you  would  scarcely  elect  to  sing  comic 
opera  in  English." 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  he  said  hastily.  "  But  there 
are  grades  and  grades,  even  of  the  other.  Not 
many  mortals  reach  the  top  round  of  the  ladder." 

"  No ;  and,  even  if  they  did,  they  would  be  a 
good  deal  in  your  way,  for  the  space  up  there  is 
limited.  It  will  be  merely  a  question  of  your  own 
will  whether  or  not  you  occupy  a  part  of  it." 

He  was  surprised  at  the  turn  the  conversation 
had  taken.  No  woman,  not  even  Miss  Gannion, 
had  ever  dared  question  to  him  the  wisdom  of  his 
choice,  or  imply  to  him  that  there  were  laurels 
which  he  had  not  yet  plucked.  Strange  to  say, 
he  rather  enjoyed  the  frank  fashion  in  which 
Beatrix  was  taking  him  to  task.  Nevertheless,  he 
fenced  a  little. 

"  I  have  always  preferred  a  moderate  success  to 
an  immoderate  failure,"  he  answered  her. 
[201  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


She  shook  her  head. 

"  That  sounds  specious  ;  but  you  know  it  is  a 
quibble.  I  had  never  supposed  that  your  ambition 
was  so  limited." 

"  But  it  is  not  the  mark  of  limitation  to  know 
where  my  success  lies.111 

"  Perhaps  not.  For  my  part,  though,  I  don't 
want  to  rest  on  any  success.  If  I  succeed  in  one 
thing,  that  is  over  and  done  with,  and  I  want  to 
try  for  something  else." 

"  And  if  you  fail  ?  " 

"  Then,  as  soon  as  I  am  quite  sure  it  is  a  failure 
and  that  no  power  of  mine  can  beat  it  into  a 
success,  I  try  to  turn  my  back  upon  it,  and  face 
another  problem,"  she  replied,  with  a  quiet  dig 
nity  which  ignored  the  flush  that  rose  in  both 
their  faces  at  the  careless  question. 

Thayer,  too,  had  seen  the  flush  in  her  cheeks 
which  had  answered  to  his  own  rising  color.  For 
an  instant,  he  questioned  whether  it  were  an 
unwitting  acknowledgment  that  her  power  over 
Lorimer  was  more  limited  than  she  had  supposed. 
Then  he  dismissed  the  suspicion.  Her  poise  was 
too  perfect  to  make  such  a  supposition  possible. 
It  was  only  that  he,  knowing  the  truth,  sought 
for  confirmation  upon  all  sides. 

"  You  are  a  good  fighter,"  he  responded  quietly. 
[  202] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  What  would  be  the  concrete  application  of  your 
theory  to  my  practice  ?  " 

"  That  you  should  try  to  fulfil  the  ambition 
your  old  master  has  for  you,""  she  returned. 
"  Why  don't  you  try  it  ?  You  can't  gain  any  more 
glory  in  your  present  field  ;  you  stand  at  the  head 
of  concert  and  oratorio  singers  in  America.  You 
have  nothing  to  lose ;  and,  over  there  in  Berlin, 
there  is  an  old  man  who  boasts  that  he  made 
your  voice,  and  says  that  he  can  never  sing  his 
Nunc  Dimittis  until  you  have  entered  upon  your 
right  path." 

Thayer's  face  softened. 

"  Did  he  say  that  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  he  extorted  a  promise  from  me  that 
I  would  tell  you  his  very  words.  That  is  the 
reason  I  have  made  bold  to  speak  about  the 
matter." 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it,  yourself,  Mrs. 
Lorimer  ?" 

"  That  he  knows  your  possibilities  much  better 
than  I,"  she  answered  evasively. 

"  But  you  have  an  opinion,"  he  urged. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"   she   replied    frankly.     "  From 

what  he  told  me,  and  from  what  I  have  heard  of 

your  singing,   I  know  that  you   can  do  broader 

work  than  any  you  have  attempted.     Your  voice 

[203] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


will  do  for  either  thing,  opera  or  oratorio  ;  but  on 
a  few  times—  "  she  hesitated;  then  she  went  on 
without  flinching ;  "  on  the  night  of  the  Fresh 
Air  Fund  concert,  for  instance,  you  showed  a 
dramatic  power  that  is  wasted  in  your  present 
work."  Suddenly  she  laughed  at  her  own  earnest 
ness.  "  What  am  I,  that  I  should  advise  the  star 
of  the  season  ?  Do  excuse  my  frankness,  Mr. 
Thayer." 

"  I  asked  you.11 

"  That  ""s  no  reason  I  should  bore  you  with  all 
my  theories  upon  a  subject  of  which  I  know 
practically  nothing.  And,  meanwhile,  I  am  for 
getting  to  tell  you  that  we  went  to  see  Frau  Arlt.11 

His  face  showed  his  pleasure  and  his  approval, 
his  pleasure  that  he  had  found  something  in 
Lorimer  to  which  he  could  give  his  unreserved 
approval. 

"  I  am  glad  you  saw  her.  It  was  like  Lorimer 
to  hunt  her  up.  Does  Otto  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  He  came  to  dinner,  a  day  or  two  after  we 
landed.  Mr.  Lorimer  had  written  him  a  note  to 
tell  him  we  were  at  home,  and  you  should  have 
seen  the  boy's  delight  over  the  box  of  funny  little 
odds  and  ends  his  mother  had  sent  him.  Sidney 
is  always  so  thoughtful,  and  he  suggested  to  the 
old  lady  that  we  had  room  in  our  trunks  for  a 
[204] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


package.  I  really  think  that  the  boy  was  happier 
with  his  home-made  gifts  than  I  was  with  the 
things  Mr.  Lorimer  gave  me  in  Paris." 

"  He  has  been  a  very  brave,  but  a  very  home 
sick  little  German,"  Thayer  answered,  while  his 
eyes  rested  thoughtfully  on  her  face.  It  brightened 
now,  as  she  spoke  of  Lorimer,  and  a  half- tender, 
half-amused  smile  was  playing  around  her  lips. 
All  in  all,  Thayer  was  broad  enough  to  like  it 
better  so. 

Suddenly  she  rose,  as  if  to  end  their  conversa 
tion  ;  but  she  turned  back  again  to  add,  — 

"  Of  all  my  wedding  gifts,  Mr.  Thayer,  the 
sweetest  was  the  blessing  of  good  old  Frau  Arlt. 
She  will  never  forget  Mr.  Lorimer,  and  her  story 
of  his  kindness  in  their  darkest  days,  her  good 
wishes  to  me,  and  her  happiness  in  seeing  us  will 
always  stand  out  as  an  unforgettable  picture. 
You  knew  all  about  it,  of  course  ;  but  I  had  no 
idea  how  good  to  them  Sidney  had  been,  nor  how- 
full  of  tact." 

The  smile  still  lingered  about  her  lips,  and  her 
cheeks  were  flushed  a  little,  as  she  turned  away  in 
answer  to  her  husband's  call.  For  long  months 
to  come,  it  was  so  that  Thayer  liked  best  to  think 
of  her. 

[205] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   FIFTEEN 

BEATRIX  raised  her  eyes  from  her  letters. 
"  Mother  wants  us  to  come  to  dinner, 
to-night,  Sidney." 

"  But  you  are  scheduled  for  something  else  ; 
are  n't  you  ? "  he  answered,  without  looking  up 
from  his  paper. 

"  For  nothing  that  I  can't  break.  There  are 
some  teas  and  the  theatre.  I  had  thought  I  might 
have  to  hurry  our  dinner,  to  get  through  in  time. 
What  if  we  give  up  the  theatre  ?  The  Andersons 
won't  mind,  if  we  telephone  them  so  early." 

"Just  as  well,"  he  responded  indifferently,  as 
he  turned  his  paper  inside  out  and  ran  his  eye 
down  the  columns. 

"  Then  shall  I  telephone  mother  that  we  will  be 
there  ?  " 

"  You  can  go,  Beatrix.  I  sha1  n't  be  able  to  be 
there." 

"Why  not,  Sidney?1' 

"  Because  Dudley  is  giving  a  dinner  at  the  club, 
to-night,  and  I  am  booked  for  that." 
[206] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Oh,  Sidney  !  "     She  checked  herself  abruptly. 

Lowering  his  paper,  he  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing,  only  —  I  would  n't  go." 

"  But  I  can't  get  out  of  it.  Dudley  made  a 
point  of  my  being  there,  and  I  told  him  to  count 
on  me." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I  don't  like 
Mr.  Dudley." 

"  Neither  do  I  especially.  Still,  I  saw  a  good 
deal  of  him  at  one  time,  and,  to-night,  he  wants  to 
get  together  the  old  set.  It 's  sort  of  a  farewell 
spread,  for  he  starts  for  Nome,  next  week." 

"  But  you  had  promised  the  Andersons." 

"  Yes,  I  told  Anderson  that  I  would  get  around 
in  time  to  mingle  my  tears  with  yours  over  the 
fifth  act.  Anderson  is  such  a  bore  that  I  could  n't 
stand  a  whole  evening  of  him." 

"Then  I  shall  certainly  refuse  to  go,"  Beatrix 
said  decidedly. 

Lorimer  raised  his  brows  inquiringly. 

"  For  any  especial  reason  ?  " 

She  had  risen  from  the  table,  and  now  she  stood 
looking  down  at  him,  a  world  of  disappointed  love 
showing  in  her  dark  eyes.  She  forced  herself  to 
smile  a  little,  as  her  eyes  met  his. 

"  I  am  old-fashioned,  Sidney.  I  don't  like  going 
[207] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


to  the  theatre  with  other  men  than  my  husband, 
four  months  after  my  wedding  day." 

He  dropped  his  paper  hastily,  and,  rising,  linked 
his  arm  in  hers. 

"  Why,  Beatrix  dear,  I  did  n't  suppose  —  " 

"  No,"  she  said  quietly ;  "  but  I  wish  you  had 
supposed.  Still,  as  long  as  I  found  it  out  in  time, 
there  is  no  great  harm  done." 

"  But  with  older  people  like  the  Andersons,"  he 
urged.  "  And  I  should  have  been  there  to  come 
home  with  you." 

She  was  silent,  and  he  went  on,  after  a  pause,  — 

"  I  did  n't  think  of  your  minding,  dear  girl. 
You  know  that  I  would  n't  be  discourteous  to  you 
for  anything." 

"  Never  mind  about  it  now,  Sidney.  I  can 
telephone  to  Mrs.  Anderson,  and  it  will  be  all 
right,"  she  answered  more  gently,  for  she  felt  the 
contrition  in  his  tone  and  it  softened  her  momen 
tary  resentment  at  his  calm  way  of  adjusting  her 
convenience  and  happiness  to  his  plans.  "  Mother 
said  Bobby  is  coming,  and  possibly  Sally  Van 
Osdel.  She  wanted  the  four  of  us  to  go  there  for 
an  impromptu  dinner  such  as  we  used  to  have." 

"  I  am  sorry,  dear."  There  was  a  real  note  of 
regret  in  Lorimers  voice.  "  She  should  have  tele 
phoned  us  earlier." 

[208] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  She  waited  for  Bobby's  decision.  He  is  the 
only  one  of  us,  you  know,  who  makes  even  a 
pretence  of  being  busy.  Besides,  as  late  in 
the  season  as  this,  it  is  generally  safe  to  count 
on  people." 

"  Apparently  not,"  Lorimer  returned  lightly. 
"  At  least,  I  seem  to  be  the  unlucky  exception 
that  proves  the  rule.  I  am  sorry,  for  I  know  your 
mother's  dinners  of  old.  I  would  break  most 
engagements  for  them." 

"  Why  not  this  ? "  she  urged. 

"  Impossible.     I  promised,  a  week  ago." 

Her  face  flushed. 

"  How  does  it  happen  you  have  n't  mentioned 
it?" 

His  answering  laugh  was  frank  and  free  from 
any  taint  of  bitterness. 

"  Because  I  knew  you  did  n't  like  Dudley,  dear 
girl,  and  I  did  n't  see  any  use  in  discussing  a  matter 
on  which  we  were  bound  to  differ."  He  evidently 
had  had  no  intention  of  saying  more  ;  but,  as  he 
saw  her  downcast  face,  he  went  on,  "  Truly,  Bea 
trix,  I  could  n't  decently  refuse  the  fellow,  without 
any  good  reason." 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face  a  little  haughtily. 

"  But  it  seems  to  me  you  had  a  good  reason." 

Lorimer  laughed  again.  It  was  plain  that  he 
l*  [  209  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


was  determined  not  to  be  jarred  out  of  his  genial 
mood. 

"  A  good  reason  ;  but  not  one  that  was  very 
tellable.  You  really  don't  want  me  saying  to  a 
man  that  I  can't  eat  his  dinner  because  my  wife 
dislikes  him." 

Lorimer  had  no  notion  that  his  words  could 
sting  his  wife,  and  he  was  surprised  at  her  height 
ened  color  and  at  the  sudden  aggressive  poise  of 
her  head.  Then  swiftly  she  controlled  herself. 

"  Next  time,  you  can  concoct  some  more  spe 
cious  reason,"  she  answered,  with  forced  lightness. 

In  his  turn,  Lorimer  felt  himself  irritated  by 
her  calm  feminine  assumption  that  his  acceptance 
or  refusal  of  invitations  in  future  was  to  be 
bounded  by  her  dislikes. 

"  Next  time,  we  will  hope  you  will  have  an 
nulled  the  reason,"  he  retorted.  "  Dudley  is  n't 
a  bad  fellow.  Moreover,  he  has  the  saving  grace 
of  knowing  how  to  order  a  good  dinner  and  get 
together  a  good  crowd." 

She  felt  the  half- veiled  hostility  of  his  tone, 
and  it  cut  her.  She  had  received  similar  cuts 
before,  during  the  past  three  or  four  months. 
Instead  of  rendering  her  callous,  they  had  left  a 
sore  sensitiveness  in  their  scars.  She  battled 
against  the  soreness  bravely.  The  Danes  were 
[210] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


a  race  with  level  nerves,  trained  by  generations  of 
self-control  to  look  upon  moods  and  lack  of  breed 
ing  as  synonymous  terms  ;  and  Beatrix  had  had 
no  conception  of  the  swift  alternations  of  feeling 
which  marked  and  marred  the  temperament  of 
Lorimer.  Often  as  they  had  been  together  dur 
ing  their  rather  long  engagement,  he  had  been 
able  to  maintain  a  moderately  even  mood  when 
ever  Beatrix  was  within  reach.  On  one  or  two 
occasions,  he  had  betrayed  the  fact  that  he  was 
gloomy  and  depressed ;  but  it  was  not  until  they 
came  into  the  every-day  and  all-day  contact  which 
follows  upon  the  heels  of  the  marriage  ceremony 
that  she  had  supposed  he  could  be  either  irritable 
or  petulant.  By  the  time  they  had  come  home 
from  Europe,  she  was  quite  aware  of  both  char 
acteristics  ;  yet  they  were  alternated  with  hours 
of  passionate  devotion,  of  a  tender  chivalry  which 
took  away  much  of  their  sting.  Lorimer  loved 
his  wife  loyally ;  nevertheless,  the  very  traits 
which  most  won  the  admiration  of  his  better 
hours,  were  the  first  ones  to  antagoni/e  him  when 
his  moments  of  irritation  were  upon  him. 

If  Beatrix  had  been  of  the  same  temper,  the 

danger  for  the  future  would  have  been  infinitely 

less.     Flash   would  have  answered  to  flash  ;  and 

then  the  quiet  current  would  have  run  on  as  if 

[211] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  perfect  contact  had  never  been  broken.  In 
stead  of  that,  her  quieter,  better-controlled  nature 
received  his  flashes  and  made  no  outward  sign  of 
the  shock.  In  the  end,  she  remained  painfully 
sensitive  to  his  petulance,  while  his  real  love  for 
her  left  her  unbelieving,  cold  and  apathetic.  She 
had  proof  of  the  one  ;  the  other  was  mainly  nega 
tive,  in  so  far  as  practical  results  were  concerned. 

"  Who  are  to  be  there  ?  "  she  asked,  as  soon  as 
she  could  trust  her  voice  to  be  properly  inex 
pressive. 

"  Austin,  and  Tom  Forbes,  and  Lloyd  Avalons, 
and  two  or  three  men  you  don't  know,  and 
Thayer." 

"  Mr.  Thayer  ?  "     Her  accent  was  incredulous. 

"  Certainly.     Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  know  that  he  ever  had  anything  to 
do  with  Mr.  Dudley,  and  I  really  can't  imagine 
his  caring  to  make  a  table  companion  of  Lloyd 
Avalons." 

Lorimer's  answering  laugh  was  slightly  bitter. 

"  What  a  social  Philistine  you  are,  Beatrix ! 
Thayer  is  not  so  narrow.11 

"  Does  that  mean  I  am  narrow  ? "  she  asked 
resentfully. 

"  Yes,  for  a  woman  who  frowned  disapproval 
upon  Sally  Van  Osdel's  late  utterances.1' 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Sally  was  talking  of  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons. 
Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  is  not  bad,  only  foolish ; . 
Mr.  Lloyd  Avalons  is  both."  She  drew  a  long 
breath,  as  she  paused  with  her  teeth  shut  upon 
her  lower  lip.  Suddenly  her  chin  began  to  quiver, 
and  two  heavy  tears  slid  down  her  cheeks.  Then 
she  rallied  swiftly,  for  she  knew  that  all  men  hate 
domestic  tears.  "  Sidney,"  she  said  slowly  and 
with  an  evident  effort  towards  steadiness  ;  "  let 's 
not  discuss  this  any  more.  I  will  go  to  mother's, 
and  you  may  come  for  me  there,  after  your  dinner- 
is  over.  I  wish  you  could  go  with  me ;  but  never 
mind.  Only,  Sidney,  —  next  time,  please  tell  me 
a  little  sooner  when  you  make  a  dinner  engage 
ment,  and  then  I  shall  know  just  how  to  fit  my 
plans  into  yours.  And  —  ? "  She  raised  her 
eyes  to  meet  his  squarely. 

He  understood. 

"  Yes,  dear  girl,  I  will  be  careful,"  he  said,  as 
he  drew  her  to  his  side. 

For  a  moment,  she  stood  there,  passive.     Then 
she  went  away  out  of  the  room. 

Thayer  was  the  last  guest  to  arrive,  that  night, 
and  when  he  entered  the  room,  he  found  that 
both  host  and  chef  were  anxiously  awaiting  his 
coming.  He  had  spent  the  past  two  hours  with 
Arlt,  listening  to  scraps  of  the  completed  over- 
[213] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ture,  suggesting,  praising,  criticising  it  with  an 
acumen  which  surprised  even  the  young  composer, 
though  he  was  fast  learning  to  attribute  omnis 
cience  to  his  friend.  After  the  shabby  room  with 
its  half-light,  after  the  intent  earnestness  of  Arlt, 
Thayer  felt  a  passing  dislike  of  the  gorgeousness 
and  glare  and  frivolity  of  the  dinner.  He  was 
the  last  man  to  assert  that  good  art  can  only 
associate  itself  with  homely  origins,  that  pros 
perity  is  a  deadly  foe  to  its  growth.  Nevertheless, 
he  was  fully  conscious  that  Arlt  in  his  meagre 
surroundings  was  much  nearer  to  his  own  ideals 
than  were  the  immaculate  guests  of  the  evening. 
Thayer  loved  luxury  ;  but  it  must  not  be  accom 
panied  by  empty-headedness. 

Thayer  had  had  a  definite  purpose  in  accepting 
his  invitation,  that  night,  a  purpose  which  was 
quite  alien  to  his  mental  estimate  of  his  host. 
Dudley,  to  his  mind,  was  in  some  respects  a  shade 
or  two  better  than  Lloyd  Avalons,  yet  many 
shades  worse  in  that  his  caddishness  came  from 
deliberate  choice,  not  from  lack  of  training.  In 
any  case,  Thayer  prayed  that  he  might  be  remote 
from  either  of  them,  at  table. 

He  quickly  discovered  that  his  prayer  had  been 
unavailing.     He  found  himself  at  the  host's  right 
hand,  with    Lorimer    directly    opposite.      Lloyd 
[214] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Avalons  was  next  to  Lorimer,  and,  as  the  dinner 
progressed  by  easy  stages,  Thayer  became  aware 
that  his  purpose  in  coming  was  about  to  be  put 
to  the  test.  The  dinner  was  good  and  abundant ; 
the  wines  were  better  and  yet  more  abundant,  and 
Lloyd  Avalons,  who  appeared  to  be  constructed 
of  some  material  which  alcohol  was  powerless  to 
attack,  saw  to  it  that  Lorimer's  glass  was  filled 
as  often  as  his  own.  The  result  was  inevitable. 
Before  Lloyd  Avalons  felt  the  slightest  exhil 
aration,  Lorimer's  brown  cheeks  were  stained 
with  red,  and  his  voice  was  mounting  by  semi1 
tones,  then  by  whole  tones,  while  his  accent 
took  on  a  curiously  insistent  note  which  was  quite 
foreign  to  the  trivial  subjects  of  discussion. 

"  How  did  it  happen  that  you  were  at  Eton, 
Lorimer?"  Dudley  asked,  at  the  end  of  an  un 
necessarily  long  story. 

"  My  father  took  me  over.  He  was  at  St. 
James,  you  know,  and  he  thought  I  would  find 
more  fellows  of  my  own  class  at  Eton  than  up 
here  at  Andover." 

"That's  modest  of  you,  Lorimer,"  someone 
called,  from  the  foot  of  the  table.  "  But  please 
remember  that  I  'm  an  Andover  man." 

"  And  even  then  would  n't  they  accept  you  for 
the  ministry  ?  "  Lorimer  asked  promptly. 
[215] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


The  man  laughed  with  perfect  good-temper. 
Already  he  was  two  glasses  ahead  of  Lorimer ; 
but  no  outward  sign  betrayed  the  fact. 

"  I  am  willing  to  bet  that  they  kept  you  more 
strict  at  Eton  than  the  Doctor  kept  us." 

Lorimer  set  down  his  glass  and  gave  a  knowing 
wink  which,  at  another  time,  he  would  have  been 
swift  to  condemn  in  his  left-hand  neighbor. 

"  They  tried ;  but  they  could  iV  do  much 
about  it.  Besides,  there  was  college,  you  know." 

"  We  all  have  experienced  university  discipline," 
Dudley  suggested.  "  It  is  swift  and  powerful,  and 
nobody  ever  knows  where  it  will  hit  next." 

Lorimer  appeared  to  be  pondering  the  matter. 
Then  he  turned  to  Lloyd  Avalons. 

"  D'  you  ever  "sperience  university  discipline  ?  " 
he  demanded,  with  grave  anxiety. 

Lloyd  Avalons  flushed  angrily,  and  Thayer 
judged  that  it  was  time  to  interpose. 

"  University  discipline  is  more  a  matter  of 
theory  than  of  fact,"  he  said  lightly.  "  If  you 
want  real  discipline,  you  'd  better  go  through  a 
course  of  voice  training.  How  much  was  my 
allowance,  the  last  of  the  time  in  Berlin,  Lorimer? 
My  salamanders  were  mere  tadpoles." 

Lorimer  caught  at  the  familiar  word. 

"  Ein !  Zwei !  Drei !  Salamander !  Salamander ! 
[216] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Salamander  ! "  he  cried  gayly.  "  It  makesh  me 
homesick  for  the  good  oY  days  in  Berlin." 

"  You  were  over,  in  January  ;  were  n't  you  ? " 
Lloyd  Avalons  asked. 

"  Yes,  afV  a  fashion ;  but  't  was  n"*  the  ol' 
fashion.  A  studen'  an1  a  married  man  "s  two 
differen1  things.  I  took  Mrs.  Lorimer  every 
where  an1  to  show  her  gratitude  she  took  me 
in  ban1."  And  Lorimer's  own  laugh  rang  out 
merrily  at  what  seemed  to  him  a  superlatively 
good  joke. 

The  next  moment,  Thayer's  level  voice,  low,  yet 
so  perfectly  trained  that  it  reached  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  room,  broke  in  upon  Lorimer\s  mirth 
and  quenched  it.  There  was  no  bitterness  in  his 
voice,  no  excitement ;  he  spoke  as  quietly  as  if  he 
had  been  wishing  his  friend  good-morning. 

"  It 's  a  pity  she  is  n't  here  to  take  you  in  hand 
now,  Lorimer,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  As  long 
as  she  is  n't,  I  think  perhaps  1 11  do  it,  myself." 

The  deliberate,  even  tone  steadied  Lorimer 
somewhat.  He  pulled  himself  together  and 
stared  haughtily  at  Thayer. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  he  demanded.  "  I 
don't  understand  you." 

There  was  a  short  silence  while  it  pleased  Lori 
mer  to  imagine  that  he  was  measuring  his  puny 
[217] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


strength  against  the  power  of  the  other.  Then, 
before  Thayers  gray  eyes,  his  own  eyes  drooped. 

"  I  think  you  do  understand,  Lorimer,"  Thayer 
said  calmly.  "  If  not,  we  can  talk  it  over  outside. 
You  know  we  are  due  at  Mrs.  Dane's  at  ten, 
and  it  is  almost  that,  now.  Dudley,  I  am  sorry 
that  this  is  good-by  for  so  long.  Don't  let  us 
break  up  the  party."  And,  rising,  he  nodded  to 
the  other  guests  and  took  his  departure  without  a 
backward  glance. 

He  had  reckoned  accurately,  for  experience  had 
taught  him  to  know  his  man.  Lorimer  sat  still 
for  a  moment,  then  hesitated,  and  rose.  He  bade 
an  over-cordial  good-night  to  Dudley  and  Lloyd 
Avalons,  exchanged  with  the  others  a  jesting  word 
or  two  of  which  the  humor  was  obviously  forced  ; 
then  he  sullenly  followed  Thayer  out  of  the  room 
and  out  of  the  club. 

Once  safely  in  the  street,  Thayer  freed  his  mind, 
forcibly  and  tersely  according  to  his  wont. 

"  It 's  bad  enough  to  fall  into  temptation,  Lor 
imer  ;  but  the  fellow  who  deliberately  canters  into 
it  comes  mighty  near  not  being  worth  the  saving. 
Some  day,  you  11  wake  up  to  find  the  truth  of  that 
fact ;  and  then  Heaven  help  you,  for  there  may  not 
be  anyone  else  willing  to  take  the  trouble ! " 

[218] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER    SIXTEEN 

SLOWLY  and  by  almost  imperceptible  stages, 
spring  had  crept  into  summer  and  sum 
mer  had  crawled  sluggishly  into  autumn. 
Rose  color  had  turned  to  green,  green  to  gold, 
and  then  all  colors  had  faded  to  the  uniform  gray 
of  November.  To  Beatrix  it  seemed  that  nature's 
change  typified  that  of  her  life ;  to  Thayer  and 
Arlt  the  rose  color  and  the  gold  were  still  glow 
ing.  For  the  time  being,  the  problems  of  their 
professional  lives  were  absorbing  them  both,  to 
the  exclusion  of  more  human  interests.  Such 
epochs  are  bound  to  come  to  every  man.  How 
ever  broad  and  generous-minded  he  may  be,  there 
are  hours  when  it  seems  to  him  that  the  rising  of 
the  sun  and  the  going  down  of  the  same  are  func 
tions  of  nature  ordained  merely  for  the  sake  of 
giving  chronological  record  of  his  own  professional 
advancement.  November  brought  them  both  to 
this  mood  and,  while  it  lasted,  each  found  the 
other  his  only  satisfactory  companion. 

To  Thayer  the  summer  had  been  a  matter  of 
personal  mathematics,  the  solving  of  simultaneous 
[219] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


personal  equations.  He  had  refused  the  Lari 
mers'  urgent  invitation  to  join  them  at  Monomoy. 
He  had  felt  unequal  to  prolong  the  double  strain 
he  had  endured,  those  last  weeks  in  town  before 
society  broke  up  for  the  summer.  It  was  almost 
unbearable  to  him  to  be  within  daily  reach  of 
Beatrix,  to  be  forced  to  face  her  with  the  unvary 
ing  conventional  smile  of  mere  social  acquaintance. 
It  was  infinitely  worse  to  be  forced  to  look  on  and 
watch  the  gradual  wrecking  of  her  hopes,  to  know 
that  she  was  unhappy,  discouraged  and  full  of 
fear  for  the  future,  and  to  realize  that  another 
man  was  carelessly  bringing  upon  her  all  this 
from  which  he  would  have  given  his  own  life  to 
shield  her.  Yet  bad  and  worse  were  subordinated 
to  worst.  The  worst,  the  most  unbearable  phase 
of  the  whole  situation  lay  in  the  knowledge,  again 
and  again  brought  to  the  proof,  that  he  himself 
was  the  only  living  person  who  had  the  ability  to 
hold  Lorimer  even  approximately  steady,  that  in 
a  way  the  thread  of  his  destiny  was  knotted  to 
gether  with  that  of  Beatrix.  He  loved  her 
absolutely,  and  the  only  proof  of  his  love  for  her 
must  lie  in  his  strange  power  to  make  more 
tolerable  for  her  the  galling  yoke  of  her  marriage 
to  another  man. 

Even  in  these  few  short  months,  it  had  become 
[220  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


evident  to  the  world  that  the  yoke  was  a  galling 
one.  Beatrix  wore  it  bravely,  even  haughtily. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  chafing  her  until  she  was  raw. 
Like  a  horse  surprised  by  the  discovery  of  its  own 
power,  from  occasional  friskiness,  Lorimer  was 
settling  into  a  steadily  increasing  pace.  During 
the  months  of  probation,  he  had  held  himself 
fairly  steady,  rather  than  lose  the  chance  of  win 
ning  Beatrix  for  his  wife.  Now  that  she  was  won, 
he  snapped  the  check  he  had  put  upon  himself, 
and  yielded  to  the  acquired  momentum  gained 
during  his  self-imposed  repression.  By  the  time 
he  came  home  from  Europe,  Bobby  and  Thayer 
both  realized  that  something  was  amiss.  By  the 
first  of  June,  it  was  an  open  secret  that  all  was  not 
well  with  Lorimer\s  soul. 

Lorimer  still  loved  Beatrix  with  all  the  fervor 
of  his  nature.  To  him,  she  was  the  one  and  only 
woman  in  the  world,  someone  to  be  caressed  and 
indulged  and  played  with,  the  comrade  of  his 
domestic  hours.  But,  when  the  other  mood  was 
upon  him,  he  acknowledged  no  right  upon  her 
part  to  offer  advice  or  warning.  He  treated  her 
as  one  treats  a  spoiled  child,  fondling  her  until 
her  presence  bored  him  or  interfered  with  his 
other  plans,  then  quietly  setting  her  aside  and  go 
ing  his  own  way  alone.  As  far  as  any  woman 
[221  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


could  have  held  him,  Beatrix  could  have  done  so ; 
but  in  Lorimer's  life  feminine  influence  was  finite. 
When  he  was  moved  to  take  the  bits  in  his  teeth, 
only  a  man,  and  but  one  man  at  that,  was  able 
to  check  him.  That  man  was  Cotton  Mather 
Thayer. 

On  a  few  occasions,  Beatrix  had  endeavored  to 
hold  her  husband,  not  from  temptation  itself,  but 
from  the  first  steps  towards  it.  She  might  as 
well  have  tried  to  bar  the  rising  tide  with  a  pint 
sieve.  At  such  times,  it  seemed  to  her  that  Lori- 
mer  deliberately  made  up  his  mind  to  have  a 
revel,  that  he  set  himself  to  work  to  carry  out  his 
desires  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion.  These  periods 
came  at  irregular  intervals ;  but,  all  in  all,  the 
intervals  were  shortening  and  the  revels  were  in 
creasing.  Beatrix  learned  their  symptoms  far  too 
quickly ;  she  learned  to  know  the  depression  and 
irritability  which  greeted  her  every  effort  to  rouse 
and  to  please  him.  It  was  at  such  times  that 
Lorimer  made  bitter  revolt  against  what  he 
termed  her  narrowness  and  prejudice,  or  burst 
into  occasional  angry  petulance,  if  she  tried  to 
urge  him  to  cut  loose  from  the  club  and  from  the 
constantly-growing  influence  of  Lloyd  Avalons 
who  was  discerning  enough  to  discover  that  Lori- 
mers  appetite  was  a  possible  lever  by  which  he 
[222] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


himself  might  pry  himself  up  into  a  more  stable 
position  in  society.  In  this  matter,  however, 
Lloyd  Avalons  was  not  quite  so  unprincipled  as 
he  seemed.  To  his  mind,  there  was  nothing  so 
very  bad  about  a  little  matter  of  social  intoxica 
tion.  The  evil  of  drink  was  an  affair  bounded 
by  purely  geographical  lines,  and  he  encouraged  in 
Lorimer  the  very  thing  for  which  he  would  have 
been  prompt  to  dismiss  the  man  who  cleaned  the 
snow  off  his  sidewalk. 

Afterwards,  when  the  depression  had  ended  in 
the  revel,  when  they  both  had  ended  in  penitence, 
Lorimer  temporarily  came  back  again  to  the  old 
ways.  The  caressing  intonations  returned  to  his 
voice,  as  he  talked  to  Beatrix ;  his  eyes  followed 
her  with  loving  pride,  as  she  moved  about  the 
room  ;  for  days  at  a  time  he  devoted  himself  to 
her  wishes,  serving  her  with  a  tireless  chivalry 
which  made  her  long  to  forget  all  that  had  gone 
before.  However,  Beatrix  could  not  forget  certain 
facts  ;  certain  episodes  were  so  fixed  in  her  memory 
that  they  seemed  branded  upon  the  very  tissue  of 
her  life.  In  some  respects,  these  intervening  days 
were  the  hardest  ones  she  had  to  bear.  Lorimer 
seemed  totally  unable  to  grasp  the  fact  that  any 
permanent  barrier  was  rising  between  them,  that 
there  was  any  real  reason  why  they  should  not 
[223] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


meet  on  precisely  the  old  ground.  To  his  mind, 
half  an  hour  of  impulsive  penitence  could  wipe  out 
half  a  night  of  deliberate  sin,  and  Beatrix  dared 
not  explain  to  him  that  it  was  otherwise.  Her 
hold  over  him,  that  hold  which  once  she  had 
deemed  so  strong,  was  growing  slighter  with  every 
passing  month.  Any  hasty  or  ill-considered  word 
from  her  might  have  the  effect  of  destroying  it 
altogether.  For  the  present,  the  most  she  could 
do,  was  to  avoid  antagonizing  him  ;  and  even  that 
was  no  easy  task.  She  was  quite  unable  to  decide 
whether  it  took  more  self-control  to  accept  in 
silence  his  petulance  or  his  caresses.  Meanwhile, 
she  was  thankful  for  the  apparently  growing 
friendship  between  Thayer  and  her  husband. 
During  late  May  and  all  of  June,  Thayer  was 
with  Lorimer  almost  daily,  and  Lorimer  came 
nearest  to  his  old,  winning  self  on  the  days  when 
he  had  been  longest  in  company  with  Thayer. 

With  the  general  scattering  of  people  which 
heralds  the  coming  of  summer,  it  seemed  to 
Thayer  that,  for  the  time  being,  Lorimer's  danger 
was  over,  and  it  was  with  a  sigh  of  utter  relief 
that  he  saw  Lorimer  and  Beatrix  starting  for 
Monomoy.  Strong  as  he  was,  Thayer  had  felt  the 
strain  of  the  past  six  weeks ;  and  it  was  good  to 
hide  himself  with  Arlt  in  a  Canadian  fishing  vil- 
[224] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


lage,  dismiss  his  responsibilities  to  his  neighbor, 
and  give  himself  up  to  absolute  idleness  and  much 
good  music. 

He  had  planned  to  spend  August  and  Septem 
ber  in  Germany  ;  but  fate  willed  otherwise.  Less 
than  a  week  before  he  was  to  sail,  he  received  a 
laconic  epistle  from  Bobby  Dane,  dated  at  the 
hotel  where  he  himself  had  spent  the  previous 
summer. 

"  DEAR  THAYER,  —  Wish  you  could  come  down 
here  for  August.  Lorimer  is  raising  the  deuce,  and 
I  can't  do  much  with  him.  Besides,  I  am  ordered 
back,  next  week.  I  suppose  the  devil  needs  my 
ministrations.  I  '11  see  to  one,  if  you  '11  tackle  the 
other.  Yours, 

R.  F.  DANE." 

Thayer  hesitated  for  three  minutes.  Then  he 
wrote  two  telegrams.  One  was  to  the  office  of  the 
steamship  company.  The  other  was  to  the  hotel 
near  Monomoy. 

The  reaction  which  followed,  was  a  natural  one. 
Late  in  September,  Thayer  returned  to  New 
York,  preparatory  to  a  concert  tour  through  New 
England.  Exhausted  by  the  long  strain  of  mas 
tering  both  himself  and  Lorimer,  he  threw  himself 
into  his  work  with  a  feverish  intensity  which 
15  [  225  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


astounded  Arlt  and  roused  his  audiences  to  the 
highest  pitch  of  enthusiasm.  Thayer  took  his 
new  honors  quietly,  however.  In  his  secret  heart, 
he  knew  that  this  had  been  the  simplest  way  to 
work  off'  his  stored-up  emotions,  and  he  reached 
New  York,  early  in  November,  with  a  greater 
reputation  and  steadier  nerves  than  he  had  even 
dared  to  hope. 

The  tour  had  been  a  prosperous  one  for  Arlt,  as 
well.  Upon  several  occasions,  he  had  met  with 
marked  favor,  and  the  little  touch  of  success  had 
reacted  upon  his  personality,  rendering  him  more 
at  ease,  more  masterful  with  his  audience.  To  be 
popular,  art  must  be  modest ;  but  woe  betide  it, 
if  it  be  in  the  least  deprecating !  However,  Arlt 
was  learning  to  face  his  public  with  a  fairly  good 
grace,  and  his  public  showed  itself  willing  to  smile 
back  at  him  in  a  thoroughly  friendly  fashion. 

Arlt's  overture  was  to  have  its  first  hearing,  the 
week  before  Thanksgiving.  The  matter  had  been 
arranged  through  the  influence  of  his  teacher,  and 
Arlt  had  been  invited  to  conduct  the  orchestra 
for  the  event.  However,  in  spite  of  his  added 
ease,  Arlt  had  judged  such  an  ordeal  too  great 
for  his  courage.  Accordingly,  the  teacher  and 
Thayer  had  taken  council  together,  with  the 
result  that  Thayer  was  engaged  as  soloist  for  the 
[226] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


evening,  and  that  Thayer  insisted  upon  singing 
one  group  of  songs  with  a  piano  accompaniment. 
To  this  minor  detail,  Arlt  had  been  forced  to  sub 
mit,  although  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that 
it  was  merely  a  ruse  on  the  part  of  his  teacher 
to  bring  him  in  person  before  his  audience. 

The  arrangement  of  these  details,  the  orchestral 
rehearsals  of  the  overture  and  his  own  rehearsals 
with  Arlt  were  engrossing  Thayer  completely. 
Heart  and  soul,  he  was  working  for  the  boy's  suc 
cess,  for  he  realized  that  into  this  simple  overture 
Arlt  had  put  the  very  best  of  himself,  that  the 
young  composer's  happiness  was  bound  up  in  the 
success  or  failure  of  his  maiden  effort.  The 
creative  power  had  come  upon  him  ;  he  had 
worked  to  the  utmost  limit  with  the  material 
ready  to  his  brain.  Now  he  was  waiting  to  have 
the  world  pass  judgment  whether  his  work  was 
worth  the  doing,  whether  he  should  keep  on,  or 
turn  his  back  upon  his  chosen  path.  Thayers 
own  plans,  too,  were  maturing.  In  the  watching 
them  develop,  in  the  helping  Arlt  to  pass  the 
time  of  waiting,  he  almost  succeeded  in  forgetting 
the  Lorirners.  Almost ;  but  not  quite.  The  for 
getting  was  a  little  too  intentional  to  be  entirely 
complete.  He  met  them  rarely.  Society  had 
not  yet  organized  its  winter  campaign,  and  it  was 
[227] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


still  possible  for  a  man  to  go  his  own  individual 
way.  Just  now,  Thayer's  own  individual  way  led 
him  almost  daily  in  the  direction  of  Washington 
Square. 

He  was  in  Arlfs  room,  one  evening,  less  than  a 
week  before  the  concert.  He  had  been  dining 
with  Miss  Gannion ;  but  he  had  left  her  early, 
in  order  to  impress  upon  Arlt  that  he  must  accept 
his  bidding  to  the  supper  which  the  Lorimers 
were  to  give  after  the  concert.  The  invitations 
had  been  noncommittal,  and  Arlt  had  announced 
his  intention  of  declining  his  own,  on  the  plea  of 
being  too  tired  with  his  overture  to  care  to  do 
anything  more,  that  night.  Miss  Gannion  had 
told  Thayer  what  he  already  half  suspected,  that 
Beatrix  was  really  giving  this  supper  in  Arlt's 
honor  and  that  it  was  to  be  the  first  large  affair 
of  the  season,  in  the  hope  of  focussing  public 
attention  upon  the  boy  at  the  very  moment  of 
his  having  proved  his  real  genius  as  composer. 
Thayer  appreciated  to  the  full  the  gracious  kind 
liness  of  the  plan,  and  he  had  excused  himself  to 
Miss  Gannion  and  hurried  away  in  search  of  Arlt, 
devoutly  praying,  as  he  went,  that  the  note  of 
regret  might  not  be  already  on  its  way. 

He  was  but  just  in  time.  The  sealed  note  lay 
on  the  table,  and  Arlt  was  shrugging  himself  into 
[228] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


his  overcoat,  when  Thayer  entered  the  room. 
Ten  minutes  later,  they  were  still  arguing  the 
matter,  when  they  heard  an  unfamiliar  step  com 
ing  up  the  stairs. 

"  Mr.  Arlt  ? "  A  strange  voice  followed  the 
knock. 

Arlt  opened  the  door  hospitably.  The  dim 
light  in  the  hallway  showed  him  a  figure  known 
to  every  opera  singer  in  America  and  half  of 
Europe. 

"  Will  you  come  in  ?  "  he  asked,  in  some  surprise. 

"Is  Mr.  Thayer  here?" 

"  I  am."  Thayer  stepped  into  the  lighted  door 
way.  "  You  wished  me  ?  " 

"  Yes.  What  is  more,  I  need  you.  We  know 
each  other  well  by  sight,  so  I  suppose  there  is  no 
call  for  us  to  waste  time  on  introductions.  Mr. 
Thayer,  Principali,  one  of  my  best  baritones,  is 
ill  and  is  forced  to  cancel  his  engagements.  Will 
you  take  his  place  ?  " 

Thayer  meditated  swiftly,  during  a  moment  of 
silence. 

"  What  are  the  operas  ?  " 

"  Wagner,  Faust  of  course,  and  —  oh,  the  usual 
run  of  extras." 

"  What  reason  have  you  to  think   that  I  am 
fitted  for  your  vacancy  ?  "  Thayer  asked  directly. 
[  229  ]       , 


The  Dominant  Strain 


The  impresario  smiled. 

"  Your  old  master  in  Berlin  is  one  of  my  most 
intimate  friends.  He  gave  you  a  letter  of  intro 
duction  to  me,  I  think  ?  "  The  accent  was  inter 
rogative,  although  it  was  plain  that  only  one 
answer  was  expected. 

"  He  did,"  Thayer  assented  quietly. 

"  Yes,  and  I  have  been  waiting  for  more  than  a 
year  in  the  hope  that  you  would  present  it. 
Since  you  will  not  come  to  me,  I  am  at  last  driven 
to  go  in  search  of  you." 

Thayer  bowed  gravely  in  recognition  of  the  im 
plied  compliment.  He  realized  that  he  was  sud 
denly  facing  a  question  which  might  affect  his 
whole  after  life,  and  he  was  too  much  in  earnest 
to  waste  words  on  mere  conventional  phrases. 
He  liked  the  old  man,  and  he  felt  a  swift,  burning 
longing  to  accept  his  offer.  It  had  come  un 
sought,  unexpected.  Was  not  fate  in  it ;  and 
was  not  a  man  always  justified  in  following  out 
his  fate?  To  accept  it  would  be  in  a  great 
measure  to  cut  himself  off  from  his  present  social 
life.  An  operatic  engagement  would  engross  him 
completely.  All  in  all,  it  might  be  better  so. 
And  yet,  there  was  something  to  be  said  upon  the 
other  side.  Was  he  justified  in  working  out  his 
own  professional  salvation  at  the  certain  cost  of 
[230] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  damnation  of  another  soul  ?  That  was  what 
it  amounted  to  in  the  long  run.  If  he  went  into 
opera,  he  must  separate  himself  from  all  con 
nection  with  Sidney  Lorimer.  He  could  not 
take  the  time  to  visit  Lorimer's  world  ;  it  would 
be  sure  and  swift  destruction  to  Lorimer,  if  he 
were  to  set  foot  within  the  new  world  which 
Thayer  was  preparing  to  enter.  Thayer  realized 
that  the  horns  of  his  dilemma  were  long  and 
curving.  The  offer  tempted  him  sorely ;  yet,  for 
some  unaccountable  reason,  he  shrank  from  turn 
ing  his  back  upon  Lorimer.  And,  besides,  if 
Beatrix  — 

"  How  long  would  you  need  me  ?  " 

"  The  entire  season.'1 

"  How  soon  ? " 

"  In  Faust i  on  the  tenth  of  next  month.1" 

"  In  Faust  ?  " 

The  impresario  saw  that  Thayer  was  hesitat 
ing.  The  idea  of  Faust  plainly  attracted  him, 
and  the  impresario  hastily  followed  up  the 
advantage. 

"  Yes,  we  want  you  for  Valentine" 

"  My  favorite  part,"  Thayer  said,  half  to 
himself. 

The    impresario   smiled    serenely.     He  felt   no 
question  now  as  to  the  outcome  of  his  errand. 
[  231  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Calve  will  sing  Marguerite ;  it  will  be  a  good 
cast.  After  that,  we  shall  need  you,  two  or  three 
times  a  week,  and  the  salary  — " 

Impatiently  Thayer  brushed  his  words  aside. 

"  How  soon  must  you  have  my  answer  ?  " 

"  To-night." 

"  Very  well.     Then,  no." 

The  impresario  straightened  up  in  his  chair. 

"  Mr.  Thayer  !  "  he  remonstrated. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  bind  myself  for  an 
entire  season,  without  more  time  to  think  the 
matter  over,"  Thayer  said  quietly. 

"  But  it  is  important  that  I  should  know,  in 
order  to  make  my  other  arrangements." 

"  Then  you  would  better  consider  it  settled  in 
the  negative,"  Thayer  returned. 

The  impresario  wavered. 

"  How  much  time  do  you  need  ? "  he  asked  a 
little  impatiently. 

"  I  must  have  a  week." 

"  Impossible." 

"Very  well,  then.  But  I  thank  you  for  the 
honor  you  have  done  me  in  asking  me  to  fill  the 
place." 

Thayer  rose  with  an    air  of  decision,  and  the 
impresario  could  do  nothing  else  than  follow  his 
example.     At  the  door,  he  turned  back. 
[232] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Mr.  Thayer,  there  is  no  use  in  my  trying  to 
conceal  the  fact  that  I  want  you  badly.  If  I  will 
wait  until  a  week  from  to-night,  will  you  give  me 
your  answer  then  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  Thayer  replied  imperturbably. 

"  And  sign  the  contracts  on  the  spot  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  Thayer  repeated ;  "  but  remember 
this :  in  the  meantime,  I  am  binding  myself  to 
nothing.  Good-night." 

He  went  down  the  stairs  with  the  impresario. 
When  he  returned  to  Arlfs  room,  a  moment 
later,  he  took  up  the  conversation  at  the  precise 
point  where  they  had  dropped  it ;  but,  even  in 
the  dusky  room,  Arlt  could  see  that  Thayer's 
eyes  were  blazing  as  ho  had  never  seen  them  till 
then.  Not  long  afterwards,  Thayer  glanced  down 
at  his  own  strong,  slim  hand  that  rested  on  the  table 
beside  him.  The  fingers  were  moving  restlessly 
and,  on  the  back,  the  cords  twitched  a  little  now 
and  then.  Thayer  watched  it  curiously  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  clasped  his  hands  on  his  knee 
and  held  them  there,  motionless. 


[233] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   SEVENTEEN 

ABOVE  the  murmur  of  talk  of  his  guests, 
Lorimer's  voice  rose,  high  and  clear, 
merry  as  the  voice  of  a  happy  child. 

"  It 's  a  great  night  for  you,  Arlt,  the  night 
of  your  life.  Ladies  and  ge'men,  le's  drink  to 
Mr.  Arlt.v 

"  You  Ve  done  it  once,  Lorimer,""  Thayer  inter 
posed.  "  Arlt  will  be  getting  more  than  is  good 
for  him." 

"  And  so  will  you,"  he  might  have  added  ;  but 
there  seemed  to  him  a  certain  impossibility  in 
imposing  a  check  upon  a  man  in  his  own  house 
and  in  the  presence  of  his  own  guests. 

Lorimer  laughed  out  blithely. 

"  Ne1  mind.  Arlt  can  stand  it ;  his  head  is 
level.  B'sides,  las'1  time,  I  drank  to  Arlt  the 
composer.  This  time,  it  \s  to  Arlt  the  accompan 
ist.  He  has  n1  any  business  to  play  a  double 
role,  if  he  can1  stan1  the  double  applause.  To  the 
success  of  Mr.  Otto  Arlt !  " 

Thayer  raised  his  glass  and  set  it  down  again, 
untasted.  As  he  glanced  across  at  Arlt  with  an 
[234] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


explanatory  smile,  he  caught  the  eyes  of  Beatrix 
fixed  upon  him  imploringly.  It  was  evident  that 
she  was  putting  her  hope  in  him  to  end  the  scene ; 
but  for  the  once  Thayer  was  ready  to  confess 
himself  beaten.  The  house  and  the  champagne 
both  were  Lorimer's.  Under  these  conditions, 
he  was  powerless  to  act.  Moreover,  he  felt  a 
sudden  impatience  with  Beatrix  for  allowing  the 
champagne  in  her  own  home,  when  she  had 
learned  from  months  of  bitter  experience  that  a 
single  glass  could  render  Lorimer  totally  untrust 
worthy.  If  this  were  the  measure  of  her  influ 
ence  for  good,  she  might  as  well  have  married 
Lorimer  in  the  first  place,  without  insisting  upon 
those  long  months  of  probation.  As  he  had 
watched  the  progress  of  that  merry  supper  in 
Arlfs  honor,  Thayer  had  been  distressed  about 
Lorimer  and  about  the  scene  which  must  inevita 
bly  follow  ;  but  his  distress  had  been  as  nothing  in 
comparison  with  his  disappointment  in  Beatrix. 

In  reality,  Beatrix  had  had  no  responsibility  in 
the  matter. 

"  I  don't  see  any  need  of  our  having  champagne, 
Sidney,"  she  had  said,  on  the  morning  that  they 
had  first  discussed  the  detail  of  the  supper. 

Lorimer  had  been  in  one  of  his  old-time  moods. 
Now  he  laughed  a  little. 

[235] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  What  a  Puritan  you  are,  Beatrix  !  "  he  said, 
as  he  bent  caressingly  over  her  shoulder  to  read 
the  completed  list  of  guests. 

"Not  a  Puritan,"  she  urged;  "but  I  would 
rather  not  have  the  champagne,  Sidney.  It  is  n't 
at  all  necessary ;  we  can  get  on  perfectly  well 
without  it." 

"  And  a  good  deal  better  with  it,'1  he  retorted, 
laughing.  "  Well,  never  mind  it  now,  dear  girl. 
But  what  about  a  florist  ?  " 

And  Beatrix,  delighted  at  her  easy  victory,  had 
allowed  herself  to  be  led  off  into  a  consideration 
of  the  decorations  for  the  table.  She  could  not 
be  expected  to  foresee  that,  in  giving  the  final 
orders  for  the  supper,  Lorimer  would  include  a 
generous  allowance  of  champagne.  Neither  could 
she  have  foreseen  that  one  of  the  invitations  would 
find  its  way  into  the  hands  of  Lloyd  Avalons. 
Confronted  suddenly  by  both  the  champagne  and 
Lloyd  Avalons,  Beatrix  had  faltered  only  for  a 
moment.  Then  she  had  rallied  to  meet  the  inevi 
table  crisis  so  swiftly  that  no  one  but  Bobby  Dane 
at  her  elbow  had  been  aware  of  her  momentary 
weakness.  Thayer  had  been  at  the  other  end  of 
the  room,  and  had  missed  the  instant  of  hesita 
tion.  Bv  the  time  he  had  discovered  the  situa 
tion,  Beatrix  had  forced  herself  to  meet  it  as  a 
[236] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


matter  of  course.  She  faltered  a  second  time, 
however,  as  she  met  the  questioning  glance  which 
Thayer  gave  her.  She  had  learned  to  care  for  his 
good  opinion ;  she  knew  that  now  she  was  in 
danger  of  forfeiting  it.  Nevertheless,  her  loyalty 
to  her  husband  was  paramount.  Never  by  a 
spoken  word  had  she  implied  to  Thayer  that 
Lo rimer  was  falling  below  her  ideals.  To-night, 
hurt  as  she  was  by  his  deception,  anxious  as  she 
was  in  regard  to  the  outcome  of  the  episode, 
nevertheless  she  remained  true  to  her  usual  careful 
reticence.  To  a  woman  of  Beatrix  Lorimer's  tem 
per  it  was  easier  to  bear  unjust  blame  than  to 
demand  just  pity.  And  yet,  as  she  recognized 
that  the  facts  were  apparently  all  against  her,  she 
could  not  help  hoping  that  Thayer  would  suspend 
judgment  until  he  had  talked  with  Bobby  Dane. 
Bobby  had  seen  the  memoranda  for  the  supper, 
and  had  advised  her  in  regard  to  some  of  the 
details.  Not  only  was  he  the  ojie  person  besides 
herself  and  Lorimer  who  knew  the  whole  truth  ; 
but  he  could  invariably  be  relied  upon  to  tell  the 
truth  in  its  entirety. 

As  Lorimer  had  said,  it  was  a  great  night  for 

Arlt.     His  work  had  scored  a  complete  success, 

and  he  had  been  called  twice  before  the  audience 

to  receive  in  person  his  applause.     Something  in 

[237] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  simple  overture  had  caught  the  fancy  of  the 
orchestra,  and  they  had  played  it  with  an  enthusi 
asm,  had  interpreted  it  with  a  dainty  accuracy  to 
Arlt's  own  mood  which  would  have  won  prompt 
recognition  for  a  work  of  far  less  merit.  The 
critics  were  warm  in  their  praises ;  but  the  audi 
ence,  upon  whom  a  popular  success  depends  far 
more  than  upon  the  professional  leaders  of  opinion, 
was  in  a  mood  to  be  expressed  by  no  such  temper 
ate  phrase.  As  he  lingered  in  the  Lorimers'  box, 
watching  the  young  German  come  forward  to  the 
footlights,  Thayer  was  ready  to  predict  a  fair 
measure  of  lasting  popularity  to  his  friend.  The 
audience  was  most  hospitable  to  him.  It  now 
remained  for  the  Lorimers''  supper  to  set  upon 
him  the  seal  of  social  approval.  For  Arlt's  sake, 
Thayer  devoutly  hoped  that  the  supper  would  be 
a  success.  Under  other  conditions,  he  might  have 
had  his  doubts.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had 
seen  Lorimer  for  weeks  ;  but  the  stories  which  had 
drifted  to  his  ears  had  not  been  reassuring.  In 
Lorimer's  own  house,  however,  there  could  be  no 
danger.  He  felt  that  he  could  count  upon 
Beatrix  to  forestall  that. 

In  the  weeks  since  they  had  met,  it  seemed  to 
him  that  Beatrix  must  have  grown  more  beautiful 
with  each  passing  day.     Beneath  the  perfect  poise 
[238] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


of  her  manner,  he  could  see  an  increasing  o-entle- 

o   o 

ness,  a  sadness  which  was  under  absolute  control. 
She  was  as  strong  as  ever,  but  less  self-reliant. 
Experience  had  taught  her  that  she  was  powerless 
to  fight  alone.  In  her  worst  battles,  she  had 
learned  that  she  must  rely  upon  another ;  and 
Thayer,  as  he  watched  her,  rejoiced  that  that 
other  was  himself.  His  weeks  of  separation  from 
her,  of  enforced  forgetfulness,  had  taught  him  a 
lesson  which  he  had  been  loath  to  learn.  Rather 
than  be  outside  her  world,  rather  than  be  upon 
the  same  footing  as  all  the  other  inhabitants  of 
that  world,  he  would  gladly  endure  a  strain  like 
that  of  the  past  summer,  would  accept  the  place 
where  fate  had  put  him,  as  the  one  man  who 
could  make  more  tolerable  her  own  life  with  her 
husband.  It  was  not  a  dignified  position  ;  yet, 
for  her  sake,  he  believed  that  he  could  fill  it  in  a 
way  which  would  add  dignity  to  the  lives  of  them 
both.  At  least,  he  would  do  the  best  that  was  in 
him.  He  took  no  account  of  the  possibility  that, 
within  an  hour,  he  would  be  balked  in  his  efforts 
by  certain  uninfringible  laws  of  hospitality. 

"  Moreover,"  Lorimer  went  on,  still  in  that  un 
wonted  high,  clear  voice  ;  "  le  's  drink  to  Arlt's 
mother  an1  sister,  Frau  Arlt  an1  Friiulein  Katarina 
Arlt." 

[239] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


The  sudden  angry  color  blazed  up  in  Aril's 
cheeks,  and  he  straightened  in  his  chair.  Then 
he  caught  Thayer's  eye,  and  with  an  effort  he 
controlled  himself.  The  instant's  by-play  had 
caused  Thayer  to  lose  the  next  words  of  his  host ; 
but  Lorimer's  laugh  was  ringing  out  with  such 
infectious  mirth  that  the  guests  were  laughing 
with  him,  although  with  obvious  reluctance  to 
show  their  merriment. 

Lorimer  babbled  on  discursively. 

"  I  knew  'em  well.  They  were  having  har' 
times  to  get  on,  an'  Arlt  here  could  n'  begin  to 
carry  the  load.  It  was  killing  him,  an'  so  Thayer 
an' I  —  " 

"  Let  the  rest  go,  Lorimer,"  Thayer  broke  in 
hastily,  for  now  two  appealing  faces  were  looking 
to  him  for  help.  "  We  know  all  about  it." 

Lorimer  turned  to  him  with  an  air  of  grave 
rebuke. 

"  You  know,  Thayer,  for  you  were  there.  But 
the  res'  do'  know.  How  could  they  ?  They 
were  n'  there."  He  paused  long  enough  to  empty 
the  glass  before  him.  Then  he  braced  one  hand 
against  the  edge  of  the  table  and  raised  the  other, 
as  if  to  add  emphasis  to  his  words.  "  I  was  there, 
an'  you  were  there,  an'  Arlt  was  there.  Nobody 
else  was  there.  If  they  had  been,  they  'd  know 
[  240] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


'bout  it,  to-night.  Plucky  fellow,  Arlt,  an"  he 
d'serves  his  success.  If  't  had  n1  been  for  you  an1 
me,  Thayer,  Arlt  would  have  gone  under,  though. 
No  wond'  Frau  Arlt  calls  me  LieU1  Sohn.  If  it 
had  n1  been  for  me,  she  would  n1  have  had  any 
sohn  't  all.  With  me,  there's  pair  of  us." 

lie  delivered  himself  of  this  long  speech  with 
an  air  of  portentous  gravity.  Then  he  turned 
away  from  Thayer  and  smiled  benignly  up  the 
table.  Side  by  side  at  the  farther  end,  Arlt  and 
Beatrix  seemed  powerless  to  take  their  eyes  from 
his  face.  Lorimer  caught  the  eye  of  Beatrix  and 
instantly  his  face  lighted,  as  he  kissed  his  hand 
to  her. 

"  Supper 's  a  gran1  success,  dear  girl,"  he  called 
gayly.  "  Ought  to  be,  cost  'nough,  an1  has  been 
no  end  trouble  ;  but  it  pays.  People  will  know 
wha'  we  think  of  Arlt  now.  He 's  geniush, '  n  no 
mishtake ;  are  n1  you,  Arlt  ?  " 

"  Bobby,"  Sally  whispered  ;  "  I  must  go  away. 
I  can't  bear  this  for  another  minute." 

Bobby  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"  Slip  out,  the  next  time  he  begins  on  Thayer. 
I  think  you  can  do  it,  and  you  ought  n't  to  stay. 
1  wish  the  others  would  go,  too." 

"They  may  follow  me.     I  would  break  it  up,  if 
I  dared  ;  but  —  Bobby,  I  'm  afraid." 
16  [ 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"So  am  I,"  Bobby  growled  through  his  shut 
teeth.  "  Come  back  in  the  morning,  Sally. 
Beatrix  may  need  you.  I  'd  go  with  you  now ; 
but  I  dare  not  leave  things." 

But  Lorimer's  eye  was  upon  them. 

"  Wha'  now,  Sally  ?  "  he  asked  jovially.  " Bobby 
been  making  a  bad  pun,  that  you  look  so  savage  ? " 

Sally  hesitated.  For  one  instant,  she  eyed  her 
host  as  if  he  had  been  a  scorpion  that  had  crawled 
across  her  path.  Then  she  controlled  herself,  and 
her  voice  took  on  its  customary  mocking  drawl. 

"  No ;  I  only  feel  savage  because  I  know  you 
must  have  set  the  clocks  ahead.  Just  see  !  It  is 
high  time  we  all  were  going  home,  and  you  know 
I  always  hate  to  start." 

Lorimer  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  man  behind  his  chair. 

"  Stop  tha'  clock  !  "  he  commanded.  "  We  can' 
have  anybody  talk  "bout  going  home  yet.  Night 's 
only  jus1  begun,  an""  there's  quarts  more  cham 
pagne.  Beatrix  did  n'  wan'  us  to  have  any  ;  but 
I  don'  believe  in  being  stingy." 

Sally  had  already  risen,  and  one  or  two  other 
women,  casting  furtive,  apologetic  glances  towards 
Beatrix,  were  hurriedly  following  Sally's  example. 
In  the  slight  confusion,  it  seemed  to  Thayer  that 
his  chance  had  come,  and  he  took  it.  Unfortu- 
[242] 


Tlie  Dominant  Strain 


nately,  however,  for  the  once  he  had  reckoned 
without  his  man.  He  had  kept  careful  count  of 
the  glasses  which  Lorimer  had  emptied  since  he 
had  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  he  knew  that  the 
danger  limit  was  not  far  distant.  In  fact,  the 
danger  limit  was  already  passed.  Thayer  had  had 
no  means  of  taking  into  account  the  glasses  which 
Lorimer  had  slyly  emptied,  during  his  short 
absence  from  the  room  before  they  had  gone  to 
the  table.  The  mischief  was  already  done.  The 
slightest  shock  which  could  disturb  Lorimer's 
present  mood  would  be  sufficient  to  destroy  his 
whole  mental  balance  past  any  possibility  of 
restoration.  Thayer's  error  in  judgment  promptly 
furnished  the  shock. 

Lorimer  had  turned  again  to  the  butler  at  the 
back  of  his  chair. 

"  Fill  thish  up,"  he  demanded,  as  he  pointed  to 
his  glass. 

With  a  swift  gesture,  Thayer  caught  the  man's 
attention,  and  shook  his  head.  The  man  hesi 
tated,  halting  between  two  masters.  The  one 
paid  him  his  wages;  the  other  commanded  his 
entire  respect,  and  it  was  not  easy  for  him  to 
choose  the  one  whom  he  should  obey. 

"  Fill  thish  up,  I  shay  ! "  Lorimer's  voice  was 
thicker,  his  accent  imperious. 
[243] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Swiftly  the  old  butler  glanced  at  Thayer  as  if 
for  instructions,  and  Thayer  again  shook  his  head. 
This  time,  Lorimer  saw  the  signal.  The  next 
instant,  his  empty  glass  was  flying  straight  in  the 
direction  of  Thayer's  face. 

There  was  a  frightened  outcry  from  the  women  ; 
but  Thayer  swerved  slightly  to  one  side,  and  the 
glass  crashed  harmlessly  against  the  mantel.  There 
followed  the  tinkle  of  the  falling  pieces,  then  a 
stillness  so  profound  that  from  one  end  to  the 
other  of  the  long  room  Lorimer's  heavy  breathing 
was  distinctly  audible.  The  impending  crisis 
seemed  to  paralyze  the  guests.  Those  who  had 
risen,  stood  motionless  in  their  places ;  the  others 
made  no  effort  to  rise.  They  remained  there 
together,  silent,  passive,  tense,  with  Lorimer  fac 
ing  them  all,  like  a  savage  beast  at  bay. 

The  interval,  seemingly  so  endless,  lasted  only 
for  a  moment.  Then,  with  a  beast-like  snarl, 
Lorimer  sprang  up,  overturning  his  chair,  and 
hurled  himself  straight  upon  Thayer.  Strong  as 
he  was,  Thayer  tottered  before  the  blow,  for  the 
strength  of  Lorimer  just  then  was  far  beyond 
the  human.  Drink-crazed  and  brutalized,  he  had 
the  fierce  power  of  a  maddened  brute.  There  was 
a  swift,  sharp  struggle,  broken  by  strange,  inar 
ticulate  cries,  making  the  women  hide  their  faces 
[244] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


and  cram  their  fingers  into  their  ears  to  shut 
out  sight  and  sound.  Then  the  struggle  grew 
still  again,  and  they  heard  Thayer's  steady  voice 
saying,  - 

"  I  think  he  is  quiet  now.  Dane,  will  you  help 
me  to  carry  him  to  his  room  ?" 

One  by  one,  the  terrified  guests  slank  away. 
There  were  no  good-nights  scarcely  a  whispered 
word  in  the  dressing-rooms  upstairs.  At  length, 
they  were  all  gone,  and  the  house  was  still.  The 
lights  from  the  open  windows  glared  out  across 
the  night,  and  the  rooms  inside  were  heavy  with 
the  fragrance  of  roses  and  the  smell  of  champagne. 
Upstairs  in  Lorimer's  room,  Thayer  and  Bobby 
Dane  were  watching  the  lethargic  sleep  which 
had  fallen  upon  their  host,  and  counting  the 
moments  until  Arlt  could  bring  the  doctor  back 
with  him.  Downstairs,  alone  in  the  abandoned 
dining-room,  Beatrix  still  sat  at  the  disordered 
table,  with  her  head  bowed  forward  upon  her 
clasped  hands. 


[  245  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   EIGHTEEN 

"  "ITT'sa   devilish    mess,    do    what   you    will," 
Bobby  said  grimly,  the  next  morning. 

-^-  "  The  punishment  seems  a  good  deal 
out  of  proportion  to  the  cause,""  Thayer  replied 
briefly. 

"  Hh  !  "  Bobby  grunted.  "  I  think  he  did  well 
to  get  off  without  a  genuine  case  of  D.  T." 

"  I  was  speaking  of  your  cousin,  not  of  Lorimer." 

Bobby  stared  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Really,  Thayer,  I  can't  see  any  cause  that  was 
of  Beatrix's  making,"  he  returned  haughtily. 

"  It  was  mistaken  judgment,  to  say  the  least, 
to  have  champagne  in  the  house,"  Thayer 
answered. 

"  Beatrix  had  nothing  to  do  with  that,"  Bobby 
blazed  forth  angrily.  "It  was  that  brute  of  a 
Lorimer,  and  he  deserves  all  he  got,  and  more, 
too.  I  saw  the  order  to  the  caterer,  made  out  in 
Beatrix's  handwriting,  and  there  was  n't  a  pint  of 
champagne  on  it.  Lorimer  sent  in  the  order 
afterwards,  just  as  he  invited  that  serpent  of  a 
Lloyd  Avalons.  Beatrix  could  n't  help  herself." 
[  246] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  She  could  have  countermanded  the  order." 

''  She  did  n't  know  it  till  the  guests  were  there. 
I  was  with  her  when  she  discovered  it,  and  she 
took  it  like  a  heroine.  She  was  perfectly  helpless. 
She  could  n't  make  a  scene  in  her  own  house,  and 
she  could  n't  reasonably  be  expected  to  send  her 
guests  home.  She  knew  exactly  what  was  bound 
to  happen,  what  she  could  n't  help  happening, 
and  she  kept  her  head  steady  and  faced  the  thing 
as  boldly  as  she  could.  I  never  thought  you  would 
be  the  one  to  go  back  on  her,  Thayer." 

Thayer  started  to  speak.  Then  he  squared  his 
jaw,  and  was  silent.  After  a  long  interval,  he 
said  humbly,  — 

"  I  have  wronged  your  cousin,  Dane.  I  am 
very  sorry." 

"  So  am  I,"  Bobby  returned  flatly.  "  Beatrix 
has  come  to  where  she  needs  every  friend  she  owns 
in  the  world  to  stand  by  her.  By  to-night,  the 
story  of  that  supper  will  have  spread  from  the 
Battery  to  Poughkeepsie  bridge.  It  will  be 
garbled  and  twisted  into  all  manner  of  shapes, 
and  it  will  come  boomeranging  back  at  her  from 
every  quarter  of  the  town.  When  it  comes  to 
gossip,  we  find  Manhattan  Island  is  a  mighty 
small  place  ;  but  I  suppose  Australia  is  just  as 
bad." 

[247] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Thayer  interrupted  his  meditations  ruthlessly. 

"How  is  Lorimer,  this  morning?  You've 
been  to  the  house,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  I  Ve  just  come  from  there.  Lorimer  is 
convalescent,  which  means  he  is  a  blamed  sight 
better  than  he  deserves  to  be.  I  did  n't  care  to  see 
him  ;  but  they  assured  me  he  was  sitting  up  and 
regaling  himself  on  raw  oysters  and  chicken 
broth.  He  is  probably  an  edifying  spectacle 
by  this  time,  a  mush  of  maudlin  penitence.  I  \e 
seen  him  before  this  in  his  next-morning  mood. 
Put  not  your  trust  in  a  moral  jellyfish  !  "  And 
Bobby,  his  fists  in  his  pockets,  stamped  up 
and  down  the  room  to  ease  his  resentment. 
"The  next  move  is  to  be  a  radical  one,"  he 
continued,  after  a  pause.  "  They  are  going  into 
the  Adirondacks." 

Thayer  looked  up  sharply. 

"  They  ?     Who  ?  " 

"  Beatrix  and  Lorimer." 

"  What  for  ?  " 

"  Safety  ;  taking  to  the  woods,  and  all  that." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Dane  ? "  Thayer  asked 
sternly.  "  This  is  no  time  for  joking.  Do  speak 
out." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Thayer.      The  fact  is,  I 
am   utterly  reckless,   this    morning,  and    I   don't 
[248] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


know  nor  care  what  I  am  saying.  If  you  loved 
Beatrix  as  I  do — " 

"  Yes,"  Thayer  returned  quietly.  "  I  under 
stand." 

"  No ;  you  don't.  You  can't.  We  Ve  been 
such  chums.  What  hurts  her,  hurts  me  ;  and,  to 
my  dying  day,  I  shall  never  forget  her  as  we  found 
her  in  the  dining-room,  last  night.  She  knew 
then  it  was  all  over.'1  Bobby's  voice  broke  upon 
the  last  words  ;  then  he  pulled  himself  up  sharply. 
"  This  morning,  we  had  a  council  of  war,  Mrs. 
Dane  and  Beatrix  and  the  doctor  and  I.  The 
doctor  says  that  Beatrix  is  n't  well,  and  that  an 
other  such  scene  would  kill  her,  or  worse.  I  was 
for  shutting  Lorimer  up  in  an  inebriate  asylum  ; 
but  Beatrix  opposed  the  idea.  She  was  so  excited 
about  it  that  the  doctor  finally  took  sides  with 
her,  and  said  that  she  and  Lorimer  would  better 
not  be  separated,  at  least,  not  until  something 
else  comes  up.  Do  you  grasp  the  pleasant  state 
of  things  ?  Lorimer  is  to  be  left  with  her  till 
something  does  come  up ;  when  the  something 
does  come,  it  may  kill  her.  That 's  what  they  call 
an  alternative,  I  suppose." 

"But  the  Adirondacks?"  Thayer  reminded 
him.  It  was  unlike  Bobby  Dane  to  go  off  like 
this  into  conversational  blind  alleys.  Thayer, 
[2491 


The  Dominant  Strain 


as  he  listened  and  looked  at  his  friend's  hag 
gard  face,  realized  suddenly  that  Bobby  was  far 
less  superficial  than  was  generally  supposed. 

"  The  doctor  ordered  them  both  out  of  town. 
It  is  the  only  way  to  keep  Lorirner  out  of  mis 
chief,  get  him  into  the  wilderness  to  live  on  veni 
son  and  bromides.  We  chose  the  Adirondacks 
because  it  was  near  and  safe,  and  because  we  could 
tell  people  that  Beatrix  needed  the  air.  Of 
course,  they  11  know  we  are  lying ;  but  we  may 
as  well  lie  valiantly  and  plausibly,  while  we  are 
about  it." 

"  When  do  they  go  ?  " 

"  Monday." 

"  Who  goes  ?  " 

"They  hire  a  cottage,  and  take  enough  ser 
vants  to  run  it.  Then  there  will  be  a  man  for 
Lorimer.  The  doctor  insisted  upon  that." 

"  Who  else  ?  " 

"  Beatrix  and  Lorimer." 

"  And  Mrs.  Dane  ?  " 

"  No  ;  no  one  else." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  Mrs.  Lorimer  is  going 
up  into  that  wilderness  alone  ?  " 

"  Alone  with  her  liege  lord,"  Bobby  said 
bitterly. 

"  But  she  must  n't.     It 's  not  safe." 
[250] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Who  can  go  ?  Mrs.  Dane  is  not  strong  ;  she 
would  only  be  an  extra  care  for  Beatrix."" 

"  Mr.  Dane,  then." 

"  He's  no  use.  I  would  go,  myself;  but  I  can't 
well  get  off.  Besides,  Lorimer  hates  me,  and 
my  being  there  would  only  make  it  harder  for 
Beatrix.  Do  you  really  think  she  ought  to  have 
someone  ?  "  Bobby's  voice  was  anxious. 

"  For  nine  days,  no ;  for  the  tenth,  yes," 
Thayer  said  decidedly.  "  We  both  know  that, 
some  time  or  other,  Lorimer  is  bound  to  go  on 
another  spree.  No  ;  there  's  no  use  in  being  too 
hard  on  him.  The  time  has  passed,  if  it  ever 
existed,  when  he  was  as  responsible  as  you  would 
be,  or  I.  It's  in  his  blood,  and  he  has  lost  all 
his  nerve  to  fight  it  out.  But,  when  that  spree 
comes,  if  it  comes  while  they  are  up  there,  Mrs. 
Lorimer  must  have  someone  to  stand  back  of  her. 
Who  is  there  ?  " 

Bobby  shook  his  head. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  confessed.  "  I  would  go, 
if  I  could  ;  but  I  can't." 

There  was  a  long  silence  between  the  two  men. 
Thayer,  sitting  at  his  desk,  was  absently  measur 
ing  his  blotting  pad  with  a  letter,  so  many  en 
velopes'  length  this  way,  so  many  that.  The 
letter  was  from  the  impresario,  reminding  him 
[251] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


that  his  decision  was  due,  that  night,  and  urging 
him  to  accept  the  offer.  At  length,  Thayer 
turned  around  away  from  the  desk,  and  faced 
Bobby. 

"  Is  there  a  hotel  near  there  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Half  a  mile  away." 

"  Open  at  this  season  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  are  always  cranks  and  consump 
tives,  you  know." 

Thayer  faced  back  again  and  measured  the 
blotter  anew.  Then  he  tossed  the  letter  aside 
and,  rising,  walked  across  to  the  mantel. 

"  I  think  I  "11  go  up  there  for  a  little  while," 
he  said  briefly. 

"  Thayer  !     You  can't." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  you  must  n't.     It's  impossible." 

Thayer  mistook  his  meaning. 

"  I  can't  see  the  impossibility,  Dane.  Lorimer 
was  —  is  my  friend.  I  knew  him  !ong  before  I 
ever  heard  of  Mrs.  Lorimer.  I  was  their  guest  at 
Monomoy  for  a  month,  last  summer,  too.  We 
both  of  us  know  that  I  can  hold  Lorimer,  when 
nobody  else  can.  I  don't  pretend  to  understand 
it,  myself;  but  the  fact  remains.  All  in  all,  I 
think  I  am  the  best  possible  person  to  go." 

His  voice  was  quiet,  yet  its  every  accent  was 
[252] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


final  and  uncompromising.  Before  its  dignity, 
Bobby  felt  like  a  rebuked  child.  He  hastened  to 
justify  himself. 

"  I  was  n't  thinking  of  that  at  all,  Thayer.  The 
idea  would  have  been  an  insult  both  to  you  and 
to  Beatrix.  I  know  that  Beatrix  feels  she  can 
rely  on  you  to  manage  Lorimer  ;  but  neverthe 
less  it  is  absolutely  out  of  the  question  for  you 
to  go." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Your  engagements  for  the  winter." 

"  I  have  made  no  engagements  yet." 

"  Is  that  a  fact  ?  " 

"  As  a  general  rule,  I  tell  the  truth,"  Thayer 
answered  dryly. 

"  Well,  you  are  sure  to  make  some." 

"  Perhaps.  When  I  do,  it  will  be  time  enough 
for  me  to  keep  them." 

"  But  your  reputation  !  "  Bobby  urged. 

"  What  of  it  ?  " 

"  How  is  it  going  to  stand  your  burying  your 
self  in  the  wilderness,  just  when  you  have  the  city 
at  your  feet  ?  " 

"  It  will  have  to  stand  it.  It  will,  if  it  is  worth 
anything  at  all." 

"  Thayer,  you  sha'n't ! "  Bobby  protested. 
"It's  Quixotic  and  idiotic.  You  sha'n't  spoil 
[  253] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


your  own  good  life  for  the  sake  of  Lorimer's  bad 
one.      He  is  n't  worth  it." 

Thayer  straightened  his  shoulders  and  threw 
back  his  head. 

"  What  about  Mrs.  Lorimer  ?  "  he  asked  steadily. 

The  clock  marked  the  passing  seconds  until 
hundreds  of  them  had  gone  away,  never  to  return. 
Then  Bobby  crossed  the  room  and  laid  his  hand 
on  Thayer's  shoulder. 

"  Thayer,"  he  said  slowly  ;  "  you  are  a  fool,  an 
utterly  asinine  fool ;  but  I  can't  help  wishing  that 
there  were  a  few  more  fools  in  the  world  just  like 
you." 

And  in  that  instant,  it  flashed  into  Bobby 
Dane's  mind  that,  ever  since  he  had  first  come  to 
know  Cotton  Mather  Thayer,  he  had  been  expect 
ing  and  awaiting  just  such  a  scene. 

Late  that  same  afternoon,  Miss  Gannion's  card 
was  brought  to  Beatrix.  All  that  day,  she  had 
denied  herself  to  callers  ;  not  even  Sally  Van  Osdel 
had  been  admitted.  Ten  minutes  before  Miss 
Gannion  came,  Beatrix  would  have  said  that  she 
too  must  be  sent  away ;  but,  as  she  read  the  name 
on  the  card,  she  felt  a  sudden  impulsive  longing 
to  see  her  old-time  friend. 

Miss  Gannion  wasted  no  words  on  conventional 
greeting. 

[254  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  You  dear  child  !  "  she  said  quietly.  "  I  know 
a  little  about  what  has  happened ;  but  it  is  all  I 
need  to  know.  Talk  about  it  or  not,  just  as  you 
choose." 

Urged  or  repressed,  Beatrix  would  have  held 
herself  steady,  reticent.  All  day  long,  she  had 
kept  herself  quiet,  going  through  her  usual  do 
mestic  routine,  answering  notes  of  invitation  and 
then  methodically  sorting  out  the  clothing  she 
would  need  during  her  absence  from  town.  She 
had  refused  her  mother's  help  and  she  had  sent 
away  her  maid  ;  it  was  a  relief  to  her  to  keep  busy. 
Left  to  herself  and  idle,  the  future  easily  could 
have  occupied  her  whole  attention  ;  but  as  yet  she 
was  not  strong  enough  to  face  it.  Strange  to  say, 
there  had  been  no  benumbing  effect  of  her  sorrow. 
From  the  first  hour,  she  had  been  able  to  grasp 
with  dreary  clearness  all  its  details,  all  its  effect 
upon  the  present  and  upon  the  future  which  now 
to  her  was  freighted  with  a  double  burden  of 
anxiety  and  alarm. 

All  day  long  until  late  afternoon,  she  had  forced 
this  quiet  upon  herself;  but  it  could  not  go  on  in 
definitely.  Already  the  tug  and  wrench  upon  her 
nerves  was  slackening,  and  Miss  Gannion's  words 
brought  the  swift  revulsion.  The  older  woman 

O 

shrank    before    the    storm    of  passionate   sorrow. 
[  255  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Then  she  braced  herself  to  bear  it,  for  she  realized 
that  it  was  the  flood  which  must  inevitably  follow 
the  breaking  down  of  the  dykes  that  for  months 
had  pent  in  the  seas  of  a  daily  and  hourly  agony 
such  as  a  weaker  soul  than  that  of  Beatrix  could 
never  know. 

It  was  long  before  Beatrix  dared  trust  her  voice 
to  speak,  and  then  Miss  Gannion  was  startled  at 
the  utter  dreariness  of  her  tone. 

"  It  has  all  been  a  horrible  mistake,"  she  said 
slowly.  "  I  thought  I  was  stronger.  I  did  believe 
that  I  could  hold  him,  Miss  Gannion.  I  didn't 
rush  into  it  carelessly,  as  most  girls  do.  I  knew 
all  the  danger.  I  thought  about  it,  and  measured 
it  against  my  strength  and  against  the  strength 
of  his  love.  I  truly  thought  I  could  hold  him." 

"  I  know,  dear,"  Miss  Gannion  said  gently.  "  I 
thought  so,  too." 

"  But  I  could  n't.  I  did  try,  try  my  best. 
But  it  was  no  use.  And  yet,  he  did  love  me,  just 
as  I  did  love  him." 

"  Did  love  ? "  Miss  Gannion  questioned,  for 
Beatrix  had  paused,  as  if  challenging  her. 

"  Yes,  did  love.  My  love  is  dead,  Miss 
Gannion." 

"  But  it  may  come  back." 

"  Never.  It  never  can.  He  has  killed  it  utterly. 
[256] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


I  am  sorry.  I  don't  know  why  I  am  telling  you, 
for  no  one  else  must  know  it,  not  even  Sidney 
himself.  He  doesn't  suspect  it  at  all  now,  and  I 
mean  that  he  never  shall.  If  I  made  the  mistake 
in  the  first  place,  I  ought  to  be  the  one  to  suffer 
for  it,  not  he." 

"  But  he  lores  you  now,"  Miss  Gannion  said 
unsteadily. 

"  To-day.  Yesterday,  he  forgot  me  entirely  ; 
to-day,  he  cares  for  me  just  as  he  always  has  done, 
no  more,  no  less.  I  wish  I  could  care  for  him  ; 
but  I  can't.  I  feel  perfectly  cold,  as  if  nothing 
more  could  ever  warm  me.'1 

"  But,  in  time  —  after  you  have  forgotten  last 
night  —  " 

Beatrix  shook  her  head. 

"  My  love  for  Sidney  did  not  die,  last  night.  It 
was  too  strong,  too  much  alive,  to  be  killed  by 
the  facts  of  one  single  night.  No  ;  it  had  been 
ailing  for  months  ;  but  it  finally  died,  six  weeks 
ago,  and  nothing  now  can  ever  make  it  live  again. 
Miss  Gannion,  I  have  been  very  selfish." 

"  I  don't  think  so,  Beatrix." 

But  Beatrix  gently   drew  herself  out  of  Miss 

Gannion's   arms,   rose   and   stood    looking   down 

at  her  friend.     In   that    moment,  confronted   by 

Beatrix's  sad,  calm  face  and   luminous  eyes,  the 

17  [  257  J 


The  Dominant  Strain 


little  gray-haired  woman  suddenly  realized  that, 
notwithstanding  the  difference  in  their  years, 
Beatrix  was  looking  into  mysteries  which  were  far 
beyond  her  ken. 

"  Yes,  I  was  selfish,"  Beatrix  went  on  steadily. 
"  I  loved  Sidney  ;  I  was  happy  in  his  love,  and  I 
believed  that,  through  both  our  loves,  I  could  be 
strong  enough  to  save  him  from  himself.  I  knew 
it  was  a  risk,  a  terrible  risk,  but  I  took  it  for 
granted  that  the  risk  would  come  only  on  myself, 
and,  for  both  our  sakes,  I  was  willing  to  assume 
it.  I  was  nothing  but  a  child,  for  all  I  felt  so 
wise,  and  I  stopped  there,  without  looking  ahead. 
I  was  wrong,  woefully,  sinfully  wrong.  I  was 
selfish,  for  I  thought  of  nothing  beyond  myself. 
Now  that  it  is  too  late,  I  am  beginning  to  realize 
what  it  all  may  mean  to  the  next  generation." 


[258] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   NINETEEN 

"  O  the  long  and  dreary  Winter  ! 
0  the  cold  and  cruel  Winter!" 

T HAYEK'S  voice  was  wonderfully  rich 
and  mellow,  as  he  stood  at  the  window 
softly  singing  over  to  himself  that 
haunting,  tragic  Famine  Theme  from  The  Death 
of  Minnehaha.  Fresh  from  its  weeks  of  resting, 
low,  yet  suggesting  an  immeasurable  reserve 
power,  it  had  all  its  old  throbbing  magnetism  ; 
but  a  new  quality  had  been  added  to  it.  It  had 
always  had  moments  of  passionate  appeal;  now 
it  had  gained  a  sadness,  a  depth  of  melancholy 
which  in  the  past  it  had  been  powerless  to  express. 
A  year  before,  Thayer  could  strike  the  tragic 
note,  never  the  pathetic. 

Nevertheless,  the  pathos  was  apparently  merely 
a  matter  of  the  vocal  cords.  The  tall,  alert,  well- 
groomed  man  who  stood  at  the  snow -veiled 
window  in  no  way  suggested  being  a  candidate 
for  sympathy.  His  eyes  were  clear,  his  brows 
unfurrowed.  Moreover,  one  could  never  dream 
[259] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


of  condoling  with  the  owner  of  such  a  voice. 
Taken  quite  by  itself,  its  possession  would  out 
weigh  an  almost  infinite  number  of  human  woes. 

"  Ever  thicker,  thicker,  thicker 
Froze  the  ice  on  lake  and  river, 
Ever  deeper,  deeper,  deeper 
Fell  the  snow  —  " 

Hiawatha's  wigwam  might  well  have  been  just 
beyond  the  spruce  thicket,  Thayer  reflected.  The 
description  was  too  accurate  to  be  artistic ;  it 
amounted  to  mere  photography.  As  far  as  his 
own  eyes  could  see,  the  earth  lay  buried  in  a  deep, 
soft  blanket  of  snow,  and  the  air  above  was  misty 
with  flakes  which  neither  fell  nor  scurried  before 
the  wind,  but  hung  apparently  motionless  in  the 
still,  cold  air.  All  through  the  preceding  night, 
however,  the  wind  had  blown  fiercely.  The  snow 
lay  heaped  in  heavy,  irregular  drifts  across  the 
open  plain ;  but  under  the  trees  it  was  rolled  up 
into  soft  waves  whose  tops  curled  over  as  daintily 
as  the  waves  had  curled  over  on  the  moonlit  beach 
of  Monomoy.  The  lake  was  frozen  over  and 
snow-covered  ;  but  the  creek  that  came  mshing 
down  to  meet  it  was  too  swift  to  be  overtaken  by 
the  frost,  and  it  showed,  an  inky-dark,  sinuous  line 
of  open  water,  winding  away  and  away  among  the 
[260] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


trees,  now  losing  itself  in  a  thicket  of  alders,  now 
drawing  a  straight  black  mark  across  an  open 
stretch  of  meadow  where  the  frost-flowers  on  its 
banks  offered  a  delicate  substitute  for  their  sum 
mer  kin. 

Half  a  mile  away  to  the  south,  the  mountain 
rose  abruptly,  its  face  of  sheer  rock  making  a 
dark  scar  on  the  winter  landscape,  a  scar  crossed 
with  long  white  bands  and  bars  of  ice  which, 
glacier-wise,  were  creeping  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  as  if  seeking  to  veil  its  sinister  face.  Against 
the  base  of  the  mountain,  close  to  the  inky  creek, 
another  patch  of  darkness  stood  out  in  bold  relief. 
This  patch  was  the  Lorimers1  cottage. 

In  spite  of  the  haunting  melancholy  of  his  song, 
Thayer  looked  out  at  the  cottage  and  at  the 
storm  with  a  feeling  of  supreme  content.  Lorimer 
hated  storms  with  a  catlike  fervor ;  it  was  an  old- 
time  peculiarity  of  his,  dating  from  their  student 
days  in  Gottingen.  There  was  no  likelihood  of  his 
leaving  the  cottage,  that  day  ;  and,  inside  the 
cottage  with  his  man  to  look  out  for  him,  Thayer 
felt  that  he  was  beyond  the  possibility  of  danger. 
It  was  seven  weeks  since  they  had  buried  themselves 
in  that  wilderness,  seven  weeks  that  Thayer  had 
voluntarily  kept  himself  under  the  daily  and  hourly 
strain  of  constant  intimate  association  with  the 
[261] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


woman  he  loved,  of  knowing  that  she  gained 
strength  and  courage  from  her  reliance  upon  him, 
and  of  forcing  himself  to  treat  her  with  an  off 
hand  good-fellowship  which  defied  analysis  for  the 
mere  reason  that  it  challenged  none. 

A  weaker  man  than  Thajer  would  have  yielded 
to  the  strain,  or  else  have  grown  fretful  under  its 
chafing.  Thayer  did  neither.  He  felt  the  chaf 
ing,  galling  burden  which  he  bore ;  but  he  kept 
the  scars  out  of  sight  of  others,  and  moreover,  he 
conscientiously  refrained  from  looking  at  them, 
himself.  Self-pity  is  the  surest,  yet  the  most  insid 
ious  foe  to  self-poise.  When  the  original  Cotton 
Mather  Thayer  had  stuck  a  splinter  of  wood  into 
the  palm  of  his  hand,  he  had  pulled  out  the 
splinter  with  his  teeth  and  then,  punching  his 
hand  into  his  pocket,  he  had  continued  his  dis 
cussion  of  the  latest  election  to  the  General 
Court.  His  namesake  was  proving  himself  true 
to  the  traditions  of  his  blood. 

Twice  only  had  Thayer  sought  outlet  for  his 
mood.  Twice  the  almost  deserted  hotel  had  vi 
brated  with  such  singing  as  it  was  destined  never 
to  have  heard,  before  or  since.  The  piano  was 
passable  and,  shut  up  alone  in  the  barren  parlor, 
Thayer  had  sung  to  the  empty  chairs  as  he  had 
never  yet  sung  to  any  crowded  audience.  Out  in 
[262] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  halls,  the  people  of  the  house  gathered  in 
listening,  whispering  groups  ;  but  Thayer  never 
heeded  them.  It  is  not  certain  that,  heeding,  he 
would  have  cared.  Relief  he  must  have  at  any 
cost,  and  this  was  the  one  means  at  his  command. 
His  own  voice,  laden  with  passionate  sadness, 
came  echoing  back  to  him  from  the  unresponsive 
walls,  and  in  time  the  echo  checked  his  outcry.  It 
taught  him  anew  the  lesson  which  already  he  had 
conned  again  and  again,  the  lesson  that  his  bit 
terest  plaint  fell  on  no  one  else's  ears  with  half  the 
compelling  fervor  with  which  it  reached  his  own, 
that  his  cry  for  help  came  beaten  back  to  the  one 
person  who  could  help  him,  that  was  —  himself. 
But  at  least,  there  was  some  relief  in  having  made 
his  cry. 

He  had  never  allowed  himself  to  regret  his 
answer  to  the  impresario.  Day  by  day,  he 
realized  more  and  more  keenly  that  his  presence 
there  was  imperative.  Beatrix  seemed  to  him  far 
from  well.  Her  nerves  had  been  less  steady  since 
the  shock  of  that  last  supper  in  New  York  ;  she 
was  totally  unable  to  adjust  herself  to  Lorimer's 
swift  alternations  of  mood,  his  hours  of  demon 
strative  affection,  his  times  of  black  depression 
and  irritability.  Thayer  saw  that  she  did  her 
best,  that  she  bravely  sought  to  play  a  loyal  part 
[263] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


in  the  work  of  reformation.  The  failure  was  in  no 
sense  that  of  will,  but  of  mere  nervous  strength. 
But  there  were  hours  and  hours  when  Thayer 
stood  between  them,  trying  by  his  sympathy  for 
Lorimer  to  atone  for  Beatrix's  coldness,  trying  by 
his  chivalry  to  Beatrix  to  make  amends  for  the 
fractiousness  of  Lorimer. 

There  were  hours  when  he  mourned  acutely  for 
his  work.  They  invariably  followed  upon  the  heels 
of  a  letter  from  Arlt  and  they  invariably  ended 
in  his  going  to  the  cottage  and  dragging  Lorimer 
out  for  a  tramp  in  the  stinging  air.  The  doctor 
had  ordered  much  exercise,  and  Lorimer,  who 
refused  to  go  beyond  his  door  in  the  society  of  his 
man,  made  long  expeditions  at  Thayers  side, 
returning  weary  of  body,  but  of  placid  mood  and 
healthy  appetite,  to  spend  a  short  evening  and  a 
long  and  restful  night. 

The  day  before,  they  had  been  out  since  early 
morning.  The  deep-packed  snow  had  lain,  hard 
and  solid  and  tempting,  and  the  sun  glittered  coldly 
back  into  the  windless  air.  Lorimer  had  been  in 
high  spirits.  One  of  his  old  gay,  infectious  moods 
was  upon  him,  and,  for  the  passing  hour,  Thayer 
let  himself  yield  to  it  until  he  forgot  Beatrix,  forgot 
the  tragedy  which  overhung  them  all,  forgot  even 
the  number  of  miles  they  had  come.  At  noon, 
[264] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


they  had  found  a  wood-choppers'"  camp  and,  sitting 
around  the  blazing  fire,  they  had  mingled  their 
daintily-packed  lunch  with  the  cruder  fare  of  their 
temporary  hosts.  Lorimer  had  been  the  life  of  the 
party,  and  the  good-bys  had  been  spoken  with 
real  regret.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  above  the 
camp,  Lorimer  had  turned  back  again  to  wave  his 
cap  in  boyish  farewell.  Then  the  episode  had 
ended,  ended  more  completely  than  Thayer  as  yet 
could  realize. 

Lori  tiler's  mood  changed  on  the  way  home. 
He  grumbled  about  the  softening  snow,  about  the 
gathering  dusk,  about  the  length  of  the  road. 
His  exasperation  reached  its  height  when,  ignoring 
Thayer's  advice  in  regard  to  the  path,  he  struck 
out  across  an  open  snowfield,  only  to  go  crashing 
down  through  its  insecure  foundation  of  baby 
spruces  whose  lusty  little  branches  bore  up  the 
snow  like  myriad  arms.  When  Lorimer  emerged 
from  the  shallow  caverns  beneath,  his  temper  was 
of  the  blackest,  and,  all  the  rest  of  the  way  home, 
he  had  stalked  along  in  gloomy  silence,  ten  feet 
in  the  rear  of  his  companion's  heels. 

Thayer  had  judged   that  it  would  lie  well   to 

invite  himself  to  stay  to  dinner  at   the  cottage. 

Lorimer  had  been  in  one  of  his  worst  moods,  and 

even  Thayer  had  found  it  wellnigh  impossible  to 

[2651 


The  Dominant  Strain 


keep  the  talk  brisk  and  amicable.  He  had 
remained  until  he  had  seen  that  Lorimer  was  at 
last  yielding  to  the  inevitable  drowsiness  of  his 
long  day  in  the  open  air  ;  then  he  had  started 
back  to  the  hotel.  Once  outside  the  cottage, 
however,  he  had  squared  his  shoulders  and  drawn 
a  deep  breath  of  relief.  He  needed  mental  ozone  ; 
but  even  physical  ozone  was  better  than  mental 
nitrous  oxide. 

And  now  he  was  standing  at  the  snow-veiled 
window,  looking  across  at  the  cottage  while  he 
hummed  to  himself  the  recurring,  haunting 
Famine  Theme,— 

"  0  the  famine  and  the  fever  ! 
0  the  wasting  of  the  famine  ! 
O  the  blasting  of  the  fever  !  " 

He  had  no  notion  of  the  truth  of  his  words. 
Had  he  done  so,  the  cottage,  not  the  hotel,  would 
have  held  him,  that  day,  and  the  tragedy,  so  long 
averted,  might  have  been  warded  off  a  little 
longer.  But  fate  willed  otherwise.  To  Thayer's 
mind,  Lorimer,  storm-bound  and  weary  from  his 
tramp  of  the  day  before,  would  spend  the  day, 
drowsing,  novel  in  hand,  before  the  open  fire. 
Thayer,  in  his  own  absolute  integrity,  could  never 
imagine  the  truth :  that  Lorimer^s  trusty  attend- 
[266] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ant  had  at  last  yielded  to  the  temptation  of  the 
oft-repeated  bribe  and  had  given  into  Larimer's 
hands  the  bottle  from  which  he  was  used  to 
measure  out,  medicine-wise,  the  daily  lessening 
allowance  of  brandy.  He  could  not  know  how 
often,  all  that  day,  Beatrix  went  to  the  window 
and  looked  out  across  the  storm  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  him  come  striding  to  her  through  the 
snow.  Had  it  been  possible,  she  would  have  sent 
for  him  ;  but  it  was  a  day  when  women  are  safest 
inside  a  house,  and  she  dared  not  remove  either 
Lorimer's  man  or  the  old  butler  from  their  close 
guard  over  her  husband.  She  had  been  utterly 
opposed  to  bringing  the  faithful  old  butler  with 
them  ;  but  now  she  was  glad  that  she  had  yielded 
to  his  begging.  He  had  been  with  her  father 
since  her  childhood,  and  had  insisted  upon  follow 
ing  "  Miss  Beatrix  "  into  her  new  home.  With 
out  him  now,  she  would  have  been  absolutely, 
hopelessly  alone. 

Thayer  spent  a  quiet,  contented  day.  For  the 
time  being,  he  had  dismissed  Lorimer  from  his 
mind,  and  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  luxury  of 
taking  thought  for  no  one  but  himself.  The 
sensation  was  very  luxurious  from  its  very  novelty. 
He  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Arlt,  responded  to  a 
dozen  notes  of  invitation  which  had  pursued  him 
[267] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


from  the  city,  loitered  about  the  office  and  ended 
the  day  with  a  novel  which  had  reached  him  when 
the  mail  came  in,  that  noon.  It  was  still  early 
when  he  went  to  bed.  As  he  drew  the  shades, 
from  sheer  force  of  habit  he  glanced  across  at  the 
cottage.  Its  lights  were  burning  brightly,  their 
quiet  steadiness  giving  no  hint  of  the  hideous 
carnival  within. 

No  healthy  man  can  go  to  bed,  two  hours 
before  his  usual  time,  and  expect  to  sleep  peace 
fully  till  dawn.  At  four  o'clock,  Thayer  waked 
suddenly,  with  the  firm  belief  that  his  slumber 
must  have  reached  quite  around  the  clock.  He 
struck  a  match  and  looked  at  his  watch. 

Restlessly  he  rose  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  room.  The  storm  had  increased  during 
the  night.  He  could  hear  the  snow  sifting  against 
the  windows  and,  far  off  at  a  distant  corner  of  the 
house,  a  loosened  blind  was  beating  to  and  fro  in 
the  wind.  The  sound  echoed  drearily  through 
the  almost  deserted  barracks,  and  added  infinitely 
to  the  loneliness  of  the  wilderness,  and  of  the 
night,  and  of  the  storm. 

Thayer  paused  at  the  window,  raised  the  shade 

and  peered  out  into  the  night.     At  first,  he  could 

see  only  the  darkness,  no  longer  black,  but  gray 

with   the  swirling  snow.     The   ceaseless,   pitiless 

[268] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


fall  of  the  flakes  fascinated  him,  and  he  stood 
long,  watching  them  take  shape  in  the  distance, 
come  whirling  against  the  glass  and  slide  aimlessly 
down  the  pane,  as  so  many  had  fallen  before  them. 
Then,  as  the  storm  lost  something  of  its  fury,  he 
glanced  up  and  out  across  the  night.  The  next 
instant,  his  face  was  pressed  against  the  pane, 
while  his  clasped  fingers  shielded  his  eyes  from  the 
light  within  the  room.  In  the  Lorimers"1  cottage, 
half  a  mile  away,  the  lights  were  still  burning. 
On  such  a  night  and  at  such  an  hour,  those  lights 
meant  trouble  :  illness,  or  perhaps  something 
infinitely  worse. 

He  had  stood  at  the  window  longer  than  he 
had  realized,  and  the  clock  in  the  office  struck 
five  as  Thayer,  fully  dressed,  stepped  out  into  the 
hall.  With  the  waning  of  the  night,  the  storm 
was  increasing  again  and,  strong  man  as  he  was, 
Thayer  faltered  as  he  opened  the  door  and  went 
out  into  the  darkness. 

Four  times  he  tried  to  beat  his  way  against  the 
wind,  to  force  a  path  through  the  wet,  heavy 
drifts.  Four  times,  buffeted  and  almost  spent,  he 
was  driven  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  veranda. 
The  office  clock  struck  six,  as  he  went  inside  the 
house  to  find  a  shivering  servant  sweeping  out  the 
office. 

[269] 


I 

The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Get  me  some  snowshoes,"  he  ordered  briefly. 
"  The  lights  have  burned  all  night  in  Mr. 
Lorimer's  cottage  ;  I  airi  afraid  they  may  be  ill 
and  in  need  of  help.  I  thought  I  could  get  to 
them  ;  but  in  this  storm  it  is  impossible,  unless  I 
can  have  some  shoes." 

By  some  trick  of  the  brain,  anxious  and  impa 
tient  as  he  was,  the  Famine  Theme  recurred  to 
his  mind,  and  the  servant,  coming  back  with  the 
shoes,  found  him  singing  it  softly  to  himself. 
The  words  died  away  into  inarticulate  humming, 
as  Thayer  bent  over  to  fasten  the  straps.  Then, 
buttoning  his  coat  closely  and  pulling  his  cap 
down  over  his  eyes,  Thayer  opened  the  door  for 
the  second  time  and  went  striding  away  across  the 
gray,  tempestuous  darkness  which  had  shut  down 
again  impenetrably  between  himself  and  those 
steady,  ominous  lights. 


[270] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   TWENTY 

"  ~W  T  has  all  been  a  hideous  mistake  !  " 

Abruptly,  defiantly  Beatrix  threw    out 

••*-  the  words  at  Thayer,  as  he  entered.  Then 
her  head  dropped  on  her  arms  which  rested  on  the 
table  before  her. 

Breathless  from  his  struggle  with  the  storm 
and  astounded  at  her  greeting,  Thayer  halted  just 
across  the  threshold  and  looked  at  her  in  silence. 
The  silence  grew  irksome  to  her.  She  changed 
the  form  of  her  words. 

"  I  could  n't  help  it.  I  have  tried."  The  defi 
ance  in  her  voice  suddenly  gave  place  to  despera 
tion.  She  pushed  back  her  chair,  rose  and  crossed 
the  room  to  the  fire.  There  she  turned  and  stood 
facing  Thayer,  her  head  erect,  her  cheeks  scarlet, 
her  hands,  palms  downward,  tightly  clasped.  "  I 
have  tried  my  best  and  failed.  It  is  a  total,  abso 
lute  failure,"  she  went  on  fiercely.  "  I  know  it, 
and  you  know  it,  too.  You  have  watched  it 
coming  on,  growing  and  overpowering  me.  We 
may  as  well  admit  it ;  I  made  a  mistake  when  I 
married  Sidney  Lorimer." 

[271] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Thayer  met  her  eyes  steadily,  rallying  all  his 
forces  to  face  her  in  this  new  mood.  This  sudden 
change  in  her  baffled  his  powers  of  comprehension. 
Weakened  and  torn  and  shaken  by  her  endless 
hours  alone  in  the  whistling,  roaring  storm,  listen 
ing  moment  by  moment  to  the  hideous  noises  of 
delirium  coming  from  the  next  room,  the  level 
nerves  of  Beatrix  had  at  last  given  way  completely. 
The  noises  had  stopped  now,  and  an  ominous  still 
ness  lay  over  the  room  ;  but  in  Beatrix's  ears  they 
still  were  ringing,  beating  a  terrible  accompani 
ment  to  the  crowding  measures  of  her  thoughts. 
Hour  after  hour  as  she  had  sat  alone,  her  fingers 
in  her  ears,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  snow-draped 
landscape  outside  the  window,  her  mind  had 
worked  ceaselessly,  arbitrarily.  For  the  time 
being,  she  had  felt  herself  unable  to  control  the 
direction  of  her  thoughts,  and  the  direction  had 
been  fraught  with  danger. 

She  went  back  to  her  first  meeting  with  Lori- 
mer.  She  went  over  each  detail  of  their  friend 
ship  and  of  their  married  life.  She  tried  in  vain 
to  connect  the  genial,  fascinating  man  she  had 
first  known  with  the  man  whose  ravings  found 
their  way  under  her  fingers  pressed  against  her 
ears.  She  recalled  his  old-time  devotion  and 
chivalry ;  she  contrasted  it  with  his  moodiness 
[  272] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


and  the  brutal  petulance  which  of  late  had 
marked  his  manner  to  her.  At  no  one  point  had 
there  been  a  sudden  change  in  him.  The  transi 
tion  had  been  slow,  insidious.  At  last  she  had 
wakened  to  it  in  all  its  bald  reality. 

Now  and  then  she  rose  and  went  to  the  window 
in  the  hope  of  seeing  Thayer's  familiar  figure 
coming  towards  her  through  the  storm.  Each 
time  she  did  so,  her  thoughts  lingered  a  little 
upon  him,  upon  his  power  to  hold  Lorimer,  upon 
his  constant  thoughtfulness  for  her.  Each  time 
she  thought  of  him,  her  mind  rested  there  longer, 
until  she  found  herself  going  over  their  acquaint 
ance  much  as,  a  few  hours  earlier,  she  had  gone 
over  her  life  with  Lorimer.  Then,  all  at  once, 
she  dropped  her  head  on  the  table  with  a  little 
moan.  Her  will  was  powerless  longer  to  blind 
her  to  the  truth.  Her  loyalty  to  Lorimer,  her 
traditions,  her  training  had  made  her  fight  for 
months,  a  fight  no  less  bitter  because  it  was  sub 
conscious.  Now  her  fighting  strength  was  gone. 
The  truth  had  asserted  itself  at  the  instant  when 
her  nervous  force  was  at  its  weakest.  It  had 
asserted  itself,  and  it  had  mastered  her. 

She  was  still  in  the  passive  stage  of  defeat, 
when  Thayer  entered  the  room,  hours  later. 
Struggling  to  her  through  the  storm,  he  had  been 
18  [  273  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


urged  on  by  a  fierce  passion  of  anxiety  for  the 
woman  he  loved.  A  strange  fire  had  flashed  up 
within  him,  and,  had  he  found  Beatrix  in  her 
usual  mood,  he  might  have  lost  his  power  to 
quench  it.  Met  by  a  passion  equal  to  his  own, 
he  instinctively  pulled  himself  together.  Two 
such  storms  must  inevitably  have  landed  them 
upon  hidden  rocks  and  wrecked  them  pitilessly 
and  in  mid-career.  He  realized  the  danger.  It 
took  all  his  manhood  to  face  it ;  but  two  lives 
were  trembling  in  the  balance,  with  nothing  but 
his  own  past  character  and  half  of  his  inherited 
tendencies  to  act  as  a  fulcrum. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand  you,"  he 
said. 

"  Then  what  are  you  doing  here  ? ""  she  returned 
sharply. 

Thayer  faltered.     Then,  — 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  be  in  need  of 
help,"  he  said  quietly. 

Her  lip  curled,  and  her  slender  wrists  grew 
tense  with  the  strain  upon  them. 

"  For  what  ?  John  and  Patrick  can  take  care 
of  my  husband.  Mr.  Lorimer  is  —  very  ill ;  but 
we  are  quite  capable  of  taking  care  of  him.  Why 
should  I  need  help  ?  "  She  watched  him  in  silent 
hostility.  Then,  as  she  saw  the  sudden  drawing 
[274] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


of  his  lips,  her  mood  changed.  This  was  her 
friend,  the  only  friend  who  was  near  her  and 
loyal  to  her.  She  must  not  hurt  him  with  her 
bitterness,  lest  he  too  should  fail  her,  just  as 
Lorimer  already  had  done.  For  months,  she  had 
unconsciously  depended  upon  his  loyalty.  Now 
she  sought  it  consciously.  "  What  is  the  use  of 
keeping  up  the  pretence  any  longer  ?  "  she  went 
on  drearily.  "  You  have  been  with  us  day  after 
day  ;  you  know  how  things  are  going ;  you  know 
how  my  husband  has  —  that  he  has  not  always 
been  himself."  Even  in  her  desperation,  she  still 
chose  her  words  guardedly.  "  Do  you  think  I 
ever  could  have  held  him  ?  " 

Slowly  Thayer  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  No  ;  you  never 
could  have  held  him.  It  was  impossible." 

Then  why  did  n't  you  warn  me  ?  "  she  burst 
out  hotly. 

He  looked  her  straight  in  the  eye. 

"  How  could  I  ? " 

Her  face  flushed  with  the  sudden  understand 
ing.  Then  the  old  dreary  note  came  back  into 
her  voice. 

"  And  you  have  known  from  the  first  that  it 
was  all  a  mistake  ?  " 

«  Yes." 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  And  you  have  let  me  suffer  for  it  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  the  only  one,"  he  said,  almost 
involuntarily. 

Their  eyes  met,  held  each  other,  then  dropped 
apart.  Thayer  drew  a  long,  slow  breath. 

"  Mrs.  Lorimer  —  Beatrix  — 

She  checked  him  with  a  gesture. 

"  Wait !  You  don't  know  it  all,  you  can't  know. 
You  never  knew  Sidney  Lorimer  as  I  did,  for  my 
Sidney  Lorimer  never  really  existed.  I  idealized 
him,  half-deified  him.  The  Sidney  Lorimer  to 
whom  I  gave  my  love,  my  very  life,  was  one  man  ; 
the  Sidney  Lorimer  I  married  was  quite  another. 
A  woman  can't  love  two  men  totally  unlike  each 
other,  and  yet  I  am  bound  to  him,  bound  down 
to  the  day  of  my  death,  or  of  his.  We  both 
come  of  a  long-lived  race,  and  this  must  go  on 
for  years.  I  have  tried  to  prevent  it,  this  grad 
ual  change  in  him  ;  but  it  was  impossible.  Then 
I  tried  not  to  see  it ;  but  I  had  to  see  it.  It  in 
sisted  on  itself  and  on  being  seen.  I  have  been 
watching  it,  dreading  the  time  when  I  must  admit 
it  in  so  many  words.  I  have  tried  to  be  loyal  to 
him,  God  knows ! "  She  spoke  rapidly.  Then 
she  checked  herself,  and  the  dreary  note  came 
again.  "  But  what  is  done,  is  done.  I  loved  one 
man  ;  I  am  married  to  another.  Nothing  now 
[276] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


can  bring  back  to  me  the  man  I  used  to  know, 
the  man  I  used  to  imagine  him.  Then  what  will 
the  future  amount  to  ?  We  shall  go  on  together 
to  the  end,  two  prisoners  bound  by  a  chain  which 
only  holds  us  the  tighter  and  galls  us  the  more, 
the  looser  it  grows  between  us.  One  does  n^t 
mind  the  dying ;  it 's  the  limitless,  unchanging 
years  ahead,  the  black,  blank  years  that  frighten 
me.  How  can  I  escape  them  ?  " 

In  presence  of  a  woman's  passionate  pain,  every 
man  must  stand  back,  baffled  and  powerless  to 
help.  Thayer  had  supposed  he  understood 
Beatrix  Lorimer  as  no  other  man  had  ever  under 
stood  her.  To  his  eyes,  her  character  seemed 
crystal  clear ;  yet  now,  in  her  supreme  crisis,  the 
crystal  grew  cloudy  before  his  eyes.  For  long 
hours,  she  had  gone  into  the  deep  places  of  her 
life,  had  stirred  up  from  its  very  source  the 
spring  of  her  being,  and  the  superficial  clearness 
had  grown  turgid  with  the  dregs  that  had  lain 
undisturbed  and  unsuspected  there.  Hatred  and 
black  despair  were  boiling  in  the  heart  which 
Thayer  had  thought  so  calm  and  cool,  so  peaceful 
in  its  dainty  whiteness.  Before  it,  he  stood 
silent.  Was  this  the  true  Beatrix  Lorimer  ?  The 
woman  he  had  fancied  her  was  a  spotless  white 
lily.  The  heart  of  this  one  was  banded  with  bars 
[277] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


of  flame  and  gold.  The  other  grew  colorless  and 
cold  by  comparison,  and  his  hands  twitched  to 
pluck  this  fiery,  vivid  thing  before  him  and  carry 
it  away  out  of  reach  of  Lorimer's  sodden,  defiling 
touch.  What  had  Sidney  Lorirner,  drunkard, 
profligate  that  he  was,  to  do  with  this  high 
bred,  high-spirited,  heart-broken  woman  ?  Why 
not  rather  he,  Cotton  Mather  Thayer —  He 
thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  lowered 
his  eyes  to  hide  the  light  burning  in  them. 

It  seemed  to  him  hours  since  he  had  entered 
the  house.  In  reality,  the  time  was  short.  As 
he  had  crossed  the  threshold,  Beatrix  had  raised 
her  head  and  looked  at  him  dully.  Then  her 
reaction  had  come.  Like  the  ebb  and  flow  of 
the  waves,  excitement  had  followed  apathy  ;  and, 
as  she  had  met  his  eyes,  the  wave  had  risen  again 
and  swept  her  away  upon  its  tossing  crest.  Thayer 
was  here  at  last.  He  never  forgot  her,  never  for 
sook  her.  He  had  come  to  her  in  this  moment 
of  her  bitterest  need,  even  as  he  had  come  to  her 
many  a  time  in  the  past.  With  him,  there  could 
be  no  need  for  explanation  or  preface.  Straight 
from  the  heart  of  her  reverie,  Beatrix  Lorimer 
had  cast  her  words  at  him,  — 

"  It  has  all  been  a  hideous  mistake  !  " 
And  now  she  was  following  them  up  with  the 
[278] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


question  which,  in  Thayer's  ears,  sounded  the 
dominant  note  of  the  temptation  that  had  been 
pursuing  him  during  all  those  months  of  rigid 
self-restraint,  — 

"The  black,  blank  years,  how  can  I  escape 
them  ?  " 

For  the  second  time  in  his  life,  Thayer  grew 
dizzy  with  the  tingle  of  his  nerves  answering  to 
the  shock  to  his  brain.  The  blood  was  pound 
ing  across  his  temples,  and  his  ears  rang  loudly. 
Then  he  lifted  his  eyes  deliberately  and  looked 
Beatrix  full  in  the  face.  For  an  instant,  he  held 
her  eyes ;  then  she  drew  away  from  him.  This 
was  not  the  quiet,  self-contained  man  upon  whom 
she  had  leaned  for  months.  This  man's  eyes 
were  glowing,  his  lips  quivering,  his  hands  out 
stretched  to  meet  her  own.  No  need  to  tell  her 
what  flame  had  kindled  him  into  such  fierce  and 
burning  life.  Their  eyes  met.  She  drew  away  ; 
but  her  glance  never  wavered.  Without  a  spoken 
word,  they  had  come  to  the  pitiless,  naked  truth. 
Wish  had  answered  to  wish,  and  henceforth  there 
could  be  no  concealments  between  them.  She 
took  a  step  forward,  and  for  a  moment  her  fingers 
rested  in  the  hot  hollow  of  his  hand. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment.  However,  for 
Thayer  that  moment  had  sufficed  to  review  a 
[279] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


lifetime,  to  dwell  in  detail,  even,  upon  the  events 
of  the  last  fourteen  months.  In  the  past,  he  had 
done  his  best  to  bear  himself  as  an  honest  man 
and  a  gentleman  ;  and,  seen  in  the  light  of  that 
past,  the  future  turned  to  ashes  before  him.  At 
best,  it  was  void  of  honor ;  at  worst,  it  was  un 
thinkable.  It  had  not  been  easy  for  him  to  swim 
against  the  tide,  to  strive,  at  the  expense  of  his 
own  plans,  to  rescue  Lorimer  from  drunkenness 
and  shame.  At  least,  now  that  for  so  long  a  time 
he  had  succeeded  in  keeping  his  head  above  water, 
he  would  not  wilfully  cast  himself  upon  the  first 
jagged  rock  in  his  course.  He  would  not  save 
Lorimer's  honor  for  the  sake  of  Lorimer's  wife, 
and  then  deliberately  seek  to  bring  dishonor  and 
shame  upon  the  wife  herself.  He  veiled  his  eyes 
and  let  his  palm  drop  out  from  under  the  pressure 
of  the  cold  little  fingers. 

"  It  \s  not  necessarily  a  question  of  years,"  he 
said,  after  a  silence  in  which  it  seemed  to  him 
that  she  must  be  able  to  count  his  heart-throbs. 
"  Dane  told  me  what  the  doctor  said.  He  hopes 
this  place  will  work  a  complete  cure,  and  it  may 
not  be  long  before  your  husband  pulls  himself 
together  again." 

He  had  turned  a  little  away  from  her ;  but  he 
knew  she  was  still  looking  at  him.  He  could  feel 
[  280] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  pathetic  appeal  in  her  eyes,  yet  he  never 
wavered.  However  brutal  he  might  seem  to  her 
now,  he  knew  that  the  hour  would  come  when  she 
would  be  grateful  to  him. 

With  an  effort,  she  steadied  herself. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  impossible.  He  has  gone 
too  far  ;  the  pull  now  is  all  downward." 

"  What  about  your  hold  on  him  ? "  Thayer 
asked  quietly. 

Beatrix  started,  as  if  he  had  laid  a  clumsy 
thumb  on  an  exposed  nerve. 

"  My  hold  !  "  she  said,  with  a  sudden  fierceness. 
"  Do  you  think  that  there  is  no  limit  to  the  help 
which  I  must  give  him?""  Then  her  voice 
dropped.  "  No  ;  I  have  let  go.  It  is  no  use.  I 
have  done  all  I  can,  and  now  I  can  only  wait  till 
the  play  is  over  and  the  curtain  drops.  Perhaps  it 
may  not  be  so  very  long,  after  all.  It  spoils  any 
tragedy,  if  the  last  acts  drag." 

He  had  been  fired  by  her  passion  ;  but  he  had 
resisted  it.  Now  her  despair  unmanned  him.  It 
was  only  the  old,  old  situation  :  the  guiltless  one 
must  suffer  for  the  guilty.  The  fact  in  general 
terms  he  accepted  as  a  necessary  evil ;  the  par 
ticular  instance  was  unbearable.  Once  more,  and 
for  the  last  time,  the  balance  wavered ;  then 
slowly,  steadily  it  dipped  into  position.  The 
[281] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


tragedy  would  be  no  less  a  tragedy,  because  a  new 
hero  took  the  stage  for  the  final  acts.  He  tried  to 
find  words  to  say  ;  but  they  refused  to  come  at 
his  bidding.  He  could  only  stand  mute  and  look 
down  at  her,  as  she  sat  in  her  old  place  by  the 
table,  with  her  head  buried  in  her  arms. 

The  seconds  passed  and  lengthened  into  minutes. 
Little  by  little,  the  cold,  gray  light  of  the  snowy 
morning  was  creeping  into  the  room,  dimming 
the  lamplight  to  pale  yellow  streaks  and  filling 
the  place  with  a  chill,  forbidding  gloom.  The 
stillness  was  so  absolute  that  Thayer  could  hear 
his  watch  ticking  in  his  pocket,  could  hear  the 
beating  of  his  own  heart.  Neither  one  of  them 
moved,  or  spoke.  In  the  next  room,  there  was  a 
faint  sound  ;  but  they  never  heeded  it.  Beatrix's 
face  was  hidden  in  her  arms ;  Thayers  eyes, 
turned  now  to  the  window,  were  fixed  upon  the 
pitiless  storm  outside,  while  mechanically  he 
sought  to  adjust  the  regular  ticking  of  his  watch 
to  the  broken  rhythm  of  the  Famine  Theme  which 
once  more  was  haunting  his  brain. 

Neither  one  of  them  faced  the  open  door ; 
neither  one  of  them  saw  the  crawling,  slinking 
figure,  the  pale,  fear-stricken  face,  and  the  staring 
eyes  which  appeared  in  the  doorway,  clung  there 
for  a  moment  and  then  vanished  again  as  noise- 
[282] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


lessly  as  the}7  had  come.  Neither  of  them,  had 
they  seen,  could  have  imagined  the  fearful  inter 
pretation  which  the  delirium-stricken  brain  had 
put  upon  the  silent  scene. 

The  stir  in  the  next  room  came  again.  Then 
it  increased  until  the  cottage  echoed  with  the 
tumult  of  struggle  and  of  inarticulate  crying. 
Above  it  all,  Lorimer's  maddened  voice  rang  out 
in  piteous  terror,  — 

"  Let  me  go !  I  saw  him  !  It  Is  Thayer,  and 
he  will  kill  Beatrix !  She  is  afraid  of  him,  and 
she  is  begging  for  mercy !  He  is  killing  my  wife, 
my  Beatrix  !  Let  me  go  !  Beatrix  !  Beatrix ! 
Dear  girl,  I  'm  coming ! " 

Beatrix  sprang  to  her  feet,  as  Thayer  rushed 
to  the  inner  room  where  the  words  had  ended  in 
a  fury  of  inarticulate  shrieks.  There  was  the 
sound  of  a  heavy  struggle,  when  it  seemed  to  her 
that  the  cottage  rocked  with  the  rocking,  writh 
ing  bodies  of  the  men  just  beyond  her  sight. 
She  dared  not  face  the  scene  in  all  its  horror. 
She  stood,  erect  and  alone,  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  while  the  struggle  slowly  died  away  and  the 
shrieks  sank  to  the  piteous  low  whimpering  of  an 
animal  in  pain.  Then  all  was  still. 

Weak  by  inheritance,  weaker  still  by  dissipa 
tion,  Lorimer's  heart  had  yielded  to  the  shock  of 
[283] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


his  imaginary  fear  ;  but  the  last  coherent  thought 
of  his  distracted  brain  had  been  that  of  protect 
ing  love  for  Beatrix. 

In  the  gray,  cold  light,  through  the  silent  cot 
tage,  the  old  butler  came  to  Beatrix's  side  and 
gently  touched  her  arm. 

"  It  is  over,  Miss  Beatrix,"  he  said  gravely  ; 
"  and  may  the  good  God  be  pitiful  to  us  all ! " 


[284  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-ONE 

IT  was  mid-afternoon  when  Thayer  once  more 
entered  the  hotel.  The  proprietor  met  him 
at  the  door. 

"This  message  was  just  telephoned  in,  Mr. 
Thayer.  The  boy  is  getting  ready  to  carry  it  to 
the  cottage.11 

Thayer  tore  open  the  envelope  indifferently. 
Exhausted  by  the  struggle  and  the  shock  through 
which  he  had  been  passing,  for  the  time  being  he 
felt  little  interest  in  any  word  which  could  come 
to  him  from  the  outside  world.  His  entire  life 
seemed  to  him  limited  to  one  short  hour  in  one 
small  room,  apart  from  the  world  and  its  con 
cerns.  That  brief  episode  was  too  recent  and  too 
personal  to  allow  him  at  once  to  cast  off  its  im 
pression.  In  his  present  mood,  it  appeared  to  be 
the  focal  point  of  his  entire  life,  the  arena  upon 
which  the  two  warring  strains  in  his  blood  had 
met  to  fight  to  a  finish.  The  fight  had  been 
sharp  and  fierce;  already  he  was  beginning  to  re 
joice  that  the  Puritan  had  conquered  the  Slav. 
[285  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Beyond  that  point,  as  yet,  he  was  powerless  to 
go.  Later,  his  rejoicing  would  be  increased  by 
the  knowledge  that  in  his  own  words  and  deeds 
he  had  never  swerved  from  a  certain  loyalty 
towards  Lorimer. 

"  Mr.  Lorimer  is  —  "  the  proprietor  was  begin 
ning  vaguely. 

Thayer's  nod  was  more  curt  than  he  realized. 

"  Mr.  Lorimer  is  dead." 

"  You  don't  mean  it !  When  ? "  The  man  was 
visibly  startled. 

"  This  morning,  between  seven  and  eight 
o'clock." 

"  It  must  have  been  very  sudden  ? "  The  ac 
cent  was  plainly  interrogative. 

"  Yes,  at  the  last.  He  had  been  quite  ill  for 
twenty-four  hours.  He  was  overtired  with  his 
walk  of  the  day  before,  and  then  ate  something 
that  disagreed  with  him.  He  suffered  terribly, 
and,  at  the  last,  heart  failure  developed."  Thayer 
ended  his  fable  with  a  deep  breath  of  relief. 

"  But  they  had  no  doctor,"  the  man  objected. 

Thayer  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  him 
steadily  for  an  instant. 

"  No,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Mr.  Lorimer  has  had 
a  number  of  such  attacks,  and  Mrs.  Lorimer  had 
all  the  proper  remedies.  Until  within  a  few  mo- 
[286] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


ments  of  the  end,  there  was  no  indication  that 
this  attack  was  any  more  serious  than  the  others 
had  been,  and  there  had  never  before  been  any 
tendency  to  heart  failure.*'  He  paused  for  a  mo 
ment,  deliberately  challenging  another  question. 
Then  he  added,  "  If  your  telephone  is  not  in  use, 
I  must  send  word  to  Mrs.  Loriiner's  friends." 
And  he  walked  away  to  the  telephone  closet  in 
the  corner  of  the  office. 

He  called  up  three  numbers  in  New  York. 
The  first  one  was  Mr.  Dane's  office,  and  to  him 
Thayer  announced  the  bare  fact  of  Lorimer's 
death  and  of  Beatrix's  need  for  her  parents.  His 
talk  with  Bobby  Da)ie  was  longer,  and  at  inter 
vals  it  became  interjectional  in  its  terseness.  To 
Bobby,  Thayer  went  over  the  story  in  all  its  de 
tail,  yet  in  such  guarded  phrases  that  no  one  else, 
listening,  could  have  gained  an  inkling  of  the 
true  cause  of  Lorimer's  death.  After  the  first 
shock  was  over,  Thayer  and  Beatrix  had  discussed 
the  matter  fully  and  in  all  its  bearings.  The 
attendant  had  his  own  reasons  for  wishing  to 
keep  the  secret,  and  the  butler  could  be  relied 
upon  implicitly.  Accordingly,  they  had  decided 
that  there  was  no  need  of  acquainting  the  world 
with  the  true  version  of  the  case,  and  they  had 
agreed  that  Bobby  should  be  the  one  person  to 
[287] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


be  put  in  possession  of  all  the  facts.  He  was 
just ;  he  had  no  sentimental  ideals  to  be  dis 
pelled  in  regard  to  Lorimer,  and  he  was  utterly 
trustworthy. 

Thayer's  third  message  was  the  shortest  of  all. 

"  Not  in  ?  Very  well.  I  am  Mr.  Thayer.  Tell 
him  that  I  will  be  in  his  office  at  ten  o'clock  on 
Saturday  morning." 

It  was  then  late  on  Thursday  afternoon. 
Thayer  had  calculated  that  the  Danes  would  come 
in,  the  next  day,  and  that  the  sleigh  which 
brought  them  in  would  also  carry  him  out  in 
season  for  the  night  train  to  New  York.  There 
was  another  illness  in  the  opera  company.  Faust 
was  to  be  sung  on  the  following  Wednesday  night, 
and  Thayer,  in  sending  that  last  message,  had 
given  his  tacit  consent  to  singing  the  part  of 
Valentine.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his  trouble,  he 
smiled  grimly  to  himself,  as  he  thought  back  to 
that  far-off  night  in  Berlin  when  the  chord  which 
closes  Valentine's  cavatina  also  closed  his  long 
indecision  and  left  him  sitting  with  his  face 
definitely  turned  towards  the  artist's  life.  It  had 
seemed  to  him  then  that  the  decision  was  threat 
ening  to  undermine  his  Puritanism ;  nevertheless, 
he  had  temporized  with  that  Puritanism.  In 
resolving  to  become  an  artist,  in  so  far  as  the 
[288] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


possibility  of  art  lay  in  his  keeping,  he  had  like 
wise  resolved  to  hold  himself  a  man,  virile  and  of 
steady  nerve.  To  his  young  enthusiasm,  the  two 
ideals  had  not  seemed  incompatible.  To  his 
maturer  judgment,  they  had  appeared  in  no  sense 
to  be  at  war,  yet  together  they  had  been  by  no 
means  easy  of  attainment.  All  in  all,  he  had 
preferred  to  leave  to  the  recording  angel  the 
balancing  of  his  psychological  accounts.  He  had 
lacked  the  time  and  the  perspective  to  do  it  for 
himself.  But,  meanwhile,  he  believed  he  recog 
nized  the  hand  of  fate  in  this  second  summons 
to  sing  the  part  of  Valentine.  Fate  and  his  old 
maestro  both  had  declared  themselves  for  opera. 
Their  united  will  should  be  done. 

That  evening  was  the  longest  he  had  ever 
spent,  so  long  that  in  reality  it  lasted  until  the 
gray  dawn.  The  eastern  sky  was  tinging  itself 
with  yellow  when  he  roused  himself  from  the 
reverie  which  had  held  him  since  he  had  left  the 
dinner  table.  Rising  to  his  feet,  he  drew  himself 
to  the  full  of  his  towering  height  and  took  a  slow, 
full  breath.  Then  deliberately  he  pushed  his 
trunk  into  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  began 
packing  it,  with  the  quiet  method  which  char 
acterized  all  his  personal  arrangements.  At  first, 
he  worked  in  grim  silence  ;  then,  by  almost  im- 
19  [  289  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


perceptible  degrees,  his  face  lighted  and  he  fell 
to  humming  over  to  himself  the  familiar  song,  — 

"  Even  bravest  heart  may  swell 
In  the  moment  of  farewell  —  " 

Little  by  little,  the  humming  rose  and  filled 
the  room,  at  first  the  one  phrase  repeated  over 
and  over  again ;  then  all  at  once,  deep  and  res 
onant,  Thayer's  full  voice  came  leaping  out  in 
the  rich  Italian  words,  — 

"  Ld  sul  campo  nel  di  della  pugna, 
Ah  !  si,  Fra  lejile  primiero  saro." 

The  past  was  already  the  past.  "  Blithe  as  a 
knight  in  his  bridal  array,"  Thayer  was  echoing 
the  call  of  his  future  destiny.  Because  he  had 
won  a  single  battle,  there  was  no  reason  he  should 
lay  down  his  arms. 

"  Careless  what  fate  may  befall  me, 
When  Glory  shall  call  me." 

He  sang  it  boldly,  joyously.  He  was  not  for 
getful,  only  hopeful.  He  would  leave  to  the 
choice  of  fate  the  field  in  which  his  mastery  should 
lie.  Master  he  would  be  at  any  cost. 

"  Careless  what  fate  may  befall  me, 
When  Glory  shall  call  me." 

[290] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


For  the  last  time,  that  little  room  was  echoing 
with  his  voice. 

His  own  rooms  in  New  York  were  echoing  with 
the  same  song,  when  Bobby  Dane  entered  them, 
the  next  Saturday  night. 

"  Well,  at  least,  you  don't  sound  broken 
hearted,"  he  observed,  as  he  took  off  his  coat. 

"  The  sight  of  you  would  go  far  to  cure  me, 
if  I  were,"  Thayer  retorted.  His  words  were 
light ;  but  his  face  and  his  grip  on  Bobby's  two 
hands  contradicted  his  tone. 

"  Glad  of  it,"  Bobby  said  flatly.  "  But  tell  me 
about  Beatrix.  How  did  the  poor  girl  stand  it  ?  " 

"  Like  herself,"  Thayer  answered.  "  It  was 
enough  to  shake  the  nerves  of  the  Winged  Vic 
tory  ;  but  Mrs.  Lorimer  went  through  it  like  a 
heroine." 

"It  was  D.  T.  ?" 

«  Yes." 

"  It  was  better  that  you  kept  the  secret,"  Bobby 
said  thoughtfully,  as  he  dropped  into  a  chair  by 
the  piano.  He  sat  silent  for  a  moment  while, 
bending  forward,  he  idly  picked  out  the  first  few 
notes  of  the  cavatina  on  the  lowest  octave  of  the 
bass.  Then  he  added,  "  I  don't  see  how  you 
managed  it,  Thayer  ;  but  it  is  a  good  deed  done. 
Was  there  any  trouble  about  the  certificate  ?  " 
[291  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  No.  It  was  heart  failure,  true  enough,  and 
there  was  no  need  to  go  into  secondary  causes." 

"  I  am  glad  the  doctor  was  a  man  of  sense. 
If  he  had  been  a  martinet,  it  would  have  been 
worse  for  us  all.  Of  course,  there  is  no  telling 
how  far  people  will  accept  the  story  ;  but  we  may 
as  well  try  to  act  as  if  it  were  true."  There  was 
a  pause.  Then  Bobby  inquired,  "Well,  and 
now  what  are  you  going  to  do  next  ? " 

"  Valentine  in  Faust,"  Thayer  replied  briefly. 

"  The  deuce  you  are  !     When  ?  " 

"  Next  Wednesday." 

Bobby's  face  fell. 

"  Oh,  I  wanted  you,  myself,  for  that  day.  Is  n't 
it  rather  sudden  ?" 

"  So  sudden  that  I  did  n't  half  realize  it,  till  I 
found  myself  at  rehearsal,  this  morning.  It  is  to 
be  announced  in  to-morrow's  papers,  I  suppose. 
Not  even  Arlt  knows  it  yet." 

Bobby  meditated  for  the  space  of  several 
seconds. 

"Thayer,  I  am  delighted,"  he  said  then.  "I 
was  so  afraid  your  stopping  now  might  mean  a 
permanent  break-up  in  your  work.  Now  you  are 
going  into  your  right  field  at  last.  You  Ve  been 
too  large  for  oratorio ;  you  fill  altogether  too 
much  space,  and  crowd  out  the  chorus.  You  need 
[292] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


a  whole  stage  to  ramp  around  in.  Moreover,  if  I 
have  any  idea  what  Gounod  meant,  he  had  your 
voice  in  mind,  when  he  created  the  part.  Go  in, 
and  you  are  sure  to  win  ;  and  not  a  soul  in  the 
city  will  be  gladder  of  it  than  I." 

Thayer's  face  softened.  His  life,  successful  as  it 
was,  had  been  singularly  barren  of  endearments, 
and  Bobby's  words  touched  him  keenly.  Hereto 
fore,  only  Arlt  had  manifested  any  personal  inter 
est  in  his  successes,  and  Arlt  was  a  true  German, 
chary  of  his  words.  Thayer  held  out  his  hand  to 
Bobby. 

"  Thank  you,  Dane.     I  believe  you,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Then  Thayer  added 
suddenly,  — 

"  What  did  you  want  of  me  for  Wednesday  ?  " 

Again  Bobby's  face  clouded,  and  he  laughed 
uneasily. 

"  Something  you  can't  and  must  not  do, 
Thayer.  I  oughtn't  to  have  spoken  of  it." 

"  What  was  it  ? "  Then  a  new  idea  crossed 
Thayer's  mind.  "Something  about  Lorimer?" 

"  Yes,  I  may  as  well  tell  you.  We  have  been 
telephoning  back  and  forth,  all  day.  They  '11  be 
down,  Monday  night,  and  the  funeral  is  to  be  on 
Wednesday  afternoon.  Beatrix  is  leaving  all  the 
plans  to  my  uncle ;  and  my  aunt,  who  is  a  senti- 
[293] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


mental  soul  and  has  no  idea  of  the  real  state  of 
the  case,  is  insisting  that  the  poor  old  chap  shall 
be  buried  with  all  manner  of  social  honors.  It  is 
to  be  a  real  function,  and  she  thought  it  would  be 
the  most  suitable  thing  in  the  world,  if  you  were 
to  sing  at  the  funeral.  I  knew  you  would  n't  en 
joy  doing  it,  all  things  considered  ;  but  I  could  n't 
say  so  to  my  uncle.  All  in  all,  it  is  a  relief 
to  have  this  other  affair  knock  it  in  the  head." 

To  Bobby,  the  pause  was  scarcely  perceptible. 
To  Thayer,  it  sufficed  to  review  the  years  between 
his  meeting  Lorimer  in  Gottingen  and  that  last 
gray  dawn  in  the  cottage. 

"  But  it  does  n't,"  Thayer  said  then. 

"  You  don't  mean  —  ?  " 

"  I  will  sing.  We  rehearse  in  the  morning,  and 
I  have  nothing  afterwards  until  evening.  What 
time  is  the  service  ?  " 

Bobby  Dane's  call  left  Thayer  feeling  once  more 
at  war  with  himself.  Worn  out  with  the  long 
strain  of  watching  over  Lorimer,  exhausted  with 
the  agony  of  that  hour  in  the  cottage,  it  had  been 
a  relief  to  him,  now  that  his  work  was  ended,  to 
throw  himself  wholly  into  the  preparations  for 
Faust.  The  needed  rehearsals  and  the  inevitable 
details  of  costuming  had  been  sufficient  to  occupy 
his  tired  mind  completely,  and  he  had  held  firmly 
[294] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


to  his  resolve  to  forget  the  past  two  months.  He 
had  been  able  to  accomplish  this  only  by  getting  a 
strong  grip  upon  his  own  mind  and  holding  on 
tightly  and  steadily  ;  but  he  had  accomplished  it. 
Bobby  left  him  with  it  all  to  do  over  again.  In 
spite  of  himself,  Beatrix's  desperate  question  for 
"  the  black,  blank  years,"  drowned  the  familiar 
words  of  his  cavatina  and  set  themselves  in  their 
place,  — 

"Even  black,  blank  years  shall  pass." 

Impatiently  he  shut  the  piano  and,  sitting  down 
at  his  desk,  began  studying  aloud  the  list  of  stage 
directions  which  outlined  his  acting ;  but,  in  the 
intervals  of  turning  a  page,  he  asked  himself  over 
and  over  again  whether  any  other  life  could  hold 
a  grimmer  contrast  than  the  one  confronting  him, 
that  coming  Wednesday  afternoon  and  evening. 

Wednesday  came  at  last.  Thayer  had  left  his 
card  at  the  Lorimers1  house,  the  day  before ;  but 
he  had  felt  no  surprise  that  Beatrix  had  refused  to 
see  him.  He  caught  no  glimpse  of  her  until  the- 
hour  for  the  funeral,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  better 
so.  For  the  present,  their  lives  must  lie  in  differ 
ent  paths. 

As    Bobby   had    predicted,    Sidney    Lorimer's 
funeral  was  a  function.     Everything  about  it  was 
[295] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


above  criticism,  with  the  minor  exception  of  the 
manner  in  which  Lorimer  had  met  his  end. 
Society,  black-clothed  and  sombre-faced,  was 
present,  partly  from  respect  to  the  Danes,  partly 
from  a  real  liking  for  Lorimer  as  they  had  known 
him  at  first,  partly  from  curiosity  to  see  whether 
there  were  any  foundation  for  the  rumors  which 
already  were  flying  abroad.  The  rumors  embraced 
everything  from  meningitis  to  suicide,  everything 
except  the  truth.  And  meanwhile,  the  Larimers' 
rooms  were  transformed  into  a  species  of  flower 
show,  and,  in  the  midst  of  the  flowers,  Lorimer  lay 
asleep,  his  cheek  resting  on  his  hand,  his  lips  curv 
ing  into  the  old  winning  smile  they  knew  so  well. 
For  him,  as  for  Thayer,  the  past  was  passed  and 
done.  For  him,  too,  the  future  might  still  be  full 
of  promise.  Thayer,  as  he  stood  beside  the  man 
who  had  been  his  old-time  friend,  admitted  as 
much  to  himself,  and  all  at  once  the  intoning  of 
the  solemn  ritual  ceased  to  jar  upon  his  ears.  For 
Lorimer,  as  for  himself,  the  fight  was  still  on. 
The  arena  had  changed  ;  that  was  all.  Perhaps  in 
the  new  battle,  Lorimer  would  arm  himself  with 
stronger  weapons. 

Then  the  intoning  stopped,  and  some  one  made 
a  signal  to  Thayer.     Simply  as  a  boy,  and  with  a 
boyish  tenderness,  he  sang  the  little  hymn  they  had 
[296] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


chosen  for  him.  Each  man  and  woman  who  lis 
tened,  felt  gentler  and  nobler  for  his  song ;  but 
only  Beatrix,  shut  decorously  in  the  room  up 
stairs,  away  from  her  dead,  realized  that,  for  the 
passing  hour,  Thayer  had  annulled  the  passion 
and  the  pain  of  those  last  weeks,  and  had  gone 
back  again  to  the  old,  pitiful,  protecting  love 
which  for  years  had  marked  his  attitude  towards 
Lorimer. 

From  Lorimer's  funeral,  society  went  home  to 
rest  and  gossip  and  exchange  its  sombre  clothing 
for  its  most  brilliant  plumage.  Nearly  two  years 
before,  society  had  taken  Cotton  Mather  Thayer 
to  its  bosom.  Now  it  was  making  ready,  to  burn 
much  incense  in  his  honor,  and  its  first  step  in  the 
process  was  to  make  his  opening  night  of  opera 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  events  of  the  winter. 
With  this  laudable  end  in  view,  the  house  was 
packed,  and  the  women  present  had  drawn  heavily 
upon  their  reserve  fund  of  brand-new  gowns  which 
they  had  been  hoarding  for  the  final  gayeties  of 
the  season. 

Thayer,  with  Arlt  at  his  side,  lingered  idly  in 
the  wings,  while  the  audience  listened  with  ill- 
concealed  impatience  to  the  melodious  bargaining 
between  Fatist  and  Mephistopheles.  Then  the 
attention  quickened,  as  every  bar  of  the  Kermess 
[297] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


chorus  brought  them  nearer  to  the  moment  for 
Valentine  s  coming. 

Charm  in  hand,  he  came  at  last,  and  the 
applause,  caught  up  to  the  galleries  and  tossed 
back  to  the  floor,  echoed  again  and  again  through 
the  great  opera  house.  He  accepted  it  quietly, 
almost  indifferently,  and  stood  waiting  for  the 
storm  to  die  away,  while  his  keen  eyes,  sweeping 
the  house,  recognized  here  and  there  among  the 
jewelled,  bare-shouldered  women  before  him  the 
faces  of  the  black-gowned  mourners  to  whom  he 
had  sung  in  the  afternoon.  The  sight  brought 
Beatrix  to  his  mind.  He  wondered  how  she  was 
passing  the  evening,  whether,  from  under  the 
benumbing  effects  of  the  blow  she  had  suffered, 
she  were  still  sending  a  thought,  a  hope  for  success 
in  his  direction.  Unconsciously  to  himself,  his 
pulses  were  tingling  and  throbbing  with  the 
music,  and  the  throb  and  tingle  brought  back  to 
him  the  memory  of  the  pounding  of  his  pulses, 
that  morning  in  the  cottage,  only  a  week  before. 
He  had  almost  yielded  to  their  sway ;  then  he  had 
rallied.  He  had  gone  through  the  shock  of 
Lorimer's  death,  through  the  hasty  discussion  of 
arrangements  which  had  followed,  through  the 
saying  good-by,  with  a  calmness  that  had  steadied 
Beatrix  and  had  been  a  surprise,  even  to  himself. 
[298] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


It  was  more —  He  roused  himself  abruptly  to 
the  consciousness  that  mechanically  he  had  been 
going  through  the  scene  with  Wagner,  and  that 
the  moment  for  his  cavatina  had  come. 

Instinctively  he  squared  his  shoulders  and  raised 
his  eyes.  As  he  did  so,  he  caught  sight  of  Bobby 
Dane,  and  the  sight  recalled  to  him  the  half- 
dismissed  thought  of  Beatrix.  During  the  one 
measure  of  introduction,  Beatrix  and  Marguerite, 
the  cottage  and  the  Kermess  went  whirling  to 
gether  through  Thayer's  brain,  turning  and  twist 
ing,  intermingling  and  separating  again  like  the 
visions  of  delirium.  For  that  one  measure,  his 
operatic  fate  was  trembling  in  the  balance.  Then 
the  artist  triumphed.  Steady  and  clear,  yet 
burdened  with  infinite  sadness,  his  voice  rang  out, 
filling  the  wide  spaces  of  the  great  house,  filling 
the  smallest  heart  within  it  with  its  throbbing, 
passionate  power. 

"  Yet  the  bravest  heart  may  swell 
In  the  moment  of  farewell." 

The  house  was  rocking  and  ringing  with  ap 
plause,  as  the  song  died  away  ;  but  Thayer  heard 
it  with  unheeding  ears.  His  old  destiny  had  ful 
filled  itself.  The  chord  which  closed  his  cavatina 
had  sealed  his  fame  in  opera ;  but  his  fame  was  to 
[299] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


him  as  ashes  in  his  mouth.  With  that  same 
chord,  he  had  wilfully  bidden  farewell,  not  to 
Marguerite,  his  sister,  but  to  Beatrix,  the  wife  of 
his  friend,  Sidney  Lorirner.  And,  as  the  chord 
died  away,  with  its  death  there  also  died  his 
passionate  love.  Who  could  foretell  what  its 
resurrection  would  be  ?  Or  when  ?  Or  where  ? 


[  300  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-TWO 

TTO,  how  does  it  feel  to  be  a  celebrity  ?" 
Miss  Gannion  asked  abruptly,  one 
afternoon  in  late  May. 

The  young  German  smiled. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  " 

"From  experience,  of  course.  Your  artistic 
probation  appears  to  be  over.  Your  winning  the 
prize  for  the  suite  has  settled  it  for  all  time,  and 
now  I  am  doing  my  best  to  readjust  myself  to  the 
idea  that  my  boy  friend  Otto  is  the  new  composer 
Arlt  about  whom  the  critics  are  waging  inky  war.1' 

"  What  is  the  use  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  crossed 
the  room  and  sat  down  at  the  piano. 

"  Because  I  really  must  begin  to  face  the  fact 
that  you  are  destined  to  be  one  of  the  immortals, 
and  treat  you  with  proper  respect."  Her  tone 
was  full  of  lazy  amusement  and  content.  "  Here 
after,  I  shall  never  dare  tell  you  when  your  neck 
tie  is  askew,  and  as  for  training  you  in  the 
management  of  your  cuffs ! "  She  paused  ex 
pressively,  and  they  both  laughed. 
[301] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  It  was  a  blow  to  me  to  find  that  reputation 
depends  upon  such  things,"  Arlt  said,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause. 

"  Not  reputation ;  success.  The  two  things 
don't  necessarily  touch  each  other.  One  is  a  mat 
ter  of  brains,  the  other  of  fashion."  Her  accent 
was  almost  bitter.  "  You  have  deserved  one ;  you 
are  beginning  to  have  the  other  thrust  upon  you. 
How  does  it  make  you  feel  ?" 

"  As  if  I  owed  a  great  deal  to  you." 

The  girlish  pink  flush  rose  in  Miss  Gannion's 
cheeks. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  boy.  But  really  I  have  done 
nothing." 

Arlt  turned  his  back  to  the  piano  and,  clasping 
his  hands  over  his  knees,  spoke  with  simple  gravity. 

"  Miss  Gannion,  here  in  America,  I  have  had 
three  good  friends,  Mr.  Thayer,  you,  and  Miss 
Van  Osdel.  Everybody  knows  what  Mr.  Thayer 
has  done  to  help  me ;  I  am  the  only  one  who 
knows  about  you  and  Miss  Van  Osdel,  and  I  know 
it  better  and  better,  the  more  I  learn  to  under 
stand  your  American  ways.  It  was  not  always 
easy  for  a  woman  in  society  to  accept  as  her  friend 
a  stranger  musician  without  reputation  and  with 
out  social  backing,  to  acknowledge  him  in  public 
and  to  insist  that  her  friends  should  acknowledge 
[302] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


him.  At  first  I  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  I 
know  better  now,  and  I  know  that  you  and  Miss 
Van  Osdel  must  have  given  up  some  things  for  the 
sake  of  helping  me  along." 

Miss  Gannion  paused,  before  she  answered. 

"  Otto,"  she  said  at  length  ;  "  I  am  a  lonely 
woman,  and  my  life  has  been  broader  for  knowing 
you.  I  mean  that  you  in  the  plural,  for  there 
have  been  a  good  many  of  you.  Some  have  been 
successful,  some  have  not;  a  few  have  become 
famous,  just  as  you  are  doing.  Some  of  them 
have  been  sent  to  me  ;  some  have  come  of  their 
own  accord.  We  have  been  close  friends  for  a 
while,  and  then  they  have  gone  on  their  ways. 
Every  going  has  left  its  scar.  I  was  a  woman, 
sitting  still  in  my  place  by  the  fire;  they  were 
marching  with  the  procession,  stopping  only  for  a 
little  while  and  then  going  on  out  of  my  sight. 
It  has  made  me  feel  so  futile.  But,  of  them  all, 
you  are  the  only  one  who  has  suggested  that  the 
vivandiere  may  be  a  useful  element  on  the  march. 
It  was  all  I  could  do,  and  I  did  it.  I  am  glad  if 
it  counted  for  anything." 

"  Everything  in  this  world  counts  but  cipher, 

naught,  or  zero,"  Bobby  observed  suddenly,  as  he 

came   strolling    into    the    room    at    Sally's    side. 

"You  aren't  a  cipher,  Miss  Gannion.     They're 

[303] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


either  evanescent  or  tubby,  according  to  whether 
you  look  at  their  moral  or  their  physical  propor 
tions.  You  don't  fit  either  measurement.  There 
fore  you  are  n't  a  cipher.  Therefore  you  count. 
How  do,  Arlt  ?  No ;  don't  get  up  from  the 
piano.  You  owe  me  a  sonata,  at  least,  to  pay 
for  the  stunning  headlines  I  gave  you,  yesterday." 

"  Was  that  your  work,  Bobby  ? "  Sally  asked, 
while  she  shook  hands  with  Arit.  "  I  thought  it 
must  have  come  from  the  bake-shop  where  they 
do  all  the  other  pi.  Did  you  see  it,  Miss  Gannion  ? 
It  reminded  me  of  A  was  an  Apple  Pie:  Arlfs  Art 
Analyzed.  Properly,  the  second  line  should  have 
been :  By  Bobby  Bunkum ;  but  I  suppose  his 
ideas  ran  low,  when  he  reached  that  point." 

"  I  say,  Arlt,'1  Bobby  suggested  ;  "  why  don't 
you  write  a  series  of  articles  on  How  to  Get  on 
in  the  World?" 

"  They  would  only  take  one  line :  Know  Miss 
Gannion  and  Miss  Van  Osdel,"  Arlt  retorted,  with 
unwonted  quickness. 

Bobby  shook  his  head. 

"No  go,  Arlt.  I've  known  them  for  years, 
known  them  intimately ;  and  look  at  me !  I 
haven't  budged  an  inch  in  the  upward  march. 
The  fact  is,  I  have  just  budged  downward.  My 
new  underling  is  a  boy  of  seventy  and  afraid  of 
[304] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


a  draught,  so  in  common  humanity  I  have  had  to 
make  over  to  him  my  warm  corner  at  the  editorial 
board,  and  remove  myself  to  the  chilly  places 
below  the  salt.  To  be  sure,  it  gives  me  extra 
good  purchase  on  the  devil,  as  my  present  desk  is 
just  in  his  pathway  to  the  Chief,  and  I  can  smite 
him  as  he  goes  by." 

"  Does  he  turn  the  other  cheek  ?  "  Sally  queried. 
"  One  lump,  Miss  Gannion.  I  am  still  keeping  up 
my  Lenten  penance,  for  I  acquired  the  taste  for  it, 
and  I  can't  bring  myself  back  to  the  old  extrava 
gant  ways.  Next  Lent,  probably  I  shall  mortify 
the  flesh  by  taking  two  lumps." 

Bobby  handed  her  the  cup. 

"  The  other  cheek,"  he  answered.  "  Which  do 
you  mean  ?  He  "s  all  cheek,  all  over  himself,  and 
it  offers  itself,  whichever  way  he  turns.  Have 
you  seen  Thayer  lately,  Arlt  ?  " 

"  Yesterday  afternoon.  He  came  down  to  my 
room  to  rehearse  the  songs  he  is  to  sing,  next 
Saturday." 

"  What  is  Saturday  ?  You  fellows  are  going 
ahead  at  such  a  rate  that  I  can't  keep  track  of 
you,  unless  I  have  an  engagement  book  for  your 
especial  benefit." 

"  Bobby  !  "  Sally  expostulated.  "  Mr.  Arlf  s 
suite  is  to  be  played,  Saturday,  and  Mr.  Thayer 
20  [  305  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


is  to  be  the  soloist  for  the  concert.  You  ought  n't 
to  have  forgotten  that,  especially  when  you  asked 
me  to  go  with  you." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  do  remember  now,"  Bobby  replied 
serenely.  "  I  knew  I  had  some  duty  on  hand  for 
Saturday,  just  when  I  wanted  to  run  up  to  Engle- 
wood  for  a  little  golf.  What  makes  you  do 
music  in  pleasant  weather,  Arlt  ?  It 's  mean  to 
keep  a  fellow  in-doors  at  this  season." 

"  It  is  our  last  appearance,"  Arlt  answered. 

Bobby  raised  his  brows  in  feigned  terror. 

"  Nothing  mortal,  I  hope." 

"  No.     We  are  going  abroad,  early  in  June." 

"  Just  the  other  fellow's  luck  !  I  wish  I  were 
a  genius,  to  go  frisking  about  Europe  instead  of 
inking  my  fingers  at  home." 

Arlt  shook  his  head. 

"  No  frisking  for  us.     We  are  going  to  study." 

With  characteristic  promptitude,  Bobby  dragged 
out  his  hobby,  mounted  it  and  was  off  at  a  gallop. 

"  That 's  always  the  way  with  you  musicians  ! 
You  work  till  you  are  tired  of  it ;  then  you 
go  off  and  shirk,  and  call  it  studying.  I  used  to 
think  you  were  the  elect  of  the  earth.  Now  I 
doubt  it." 

"  Have  some  more  tea,  Bobby,"  Miss  Gannion 
suggested. 

[306] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Bobby  waved  her  aside. 

"  Am  I  a  child,  to  be  diverted  with  soothing 
drinks  ?  Never  !  I  must  have  my  cry  out,  Miss 
Gannion.  You  and  Sally  can  be  talking  about 
the  last  fashion  in  peignoirs,  if  you  wish.  I  don't 
know  what  they  are  ;  but  I  did  a  scarehead  about 
them  for  the  Sunday  fashion  page,  last  week. 
The  woman  who  generally  sees  to  it  had  mumps, 
and  I  substituted.  I  thought  I  did  it  superbly  : 
Death  to  Decollete :  Peignoirs  Popular  for  Sub 
urban  Suppers.  That  was  the  way  I  did  it,  and 
I  was  sure  she  would  be  pleased  ;  but  she  cut  me 
dead  on  the  stairs,  the  first  day  she  convalesced 
enough  to  be  out.  Arlt,  musicians  are  second- 
rate  beings,  at  best.1' 

"  I  am  sorry.  Perhaps  you  can  suggest  a 
remedy,"  Arlt  replied  literally. 

"  Cast  off  your  leading  strings,  and  work  out 
your  own  theories  to  suit  yourselves,"  Bobby  an 
swered  unhesitatingly.  "  Now  look  here,  I  used 
to  think  that  it  was  greater  to  create  music  than 
to  evolve  literature ;  now  I  know  more,  I  know  it 
is  n't.  When  a  man  writes  a  book,  he  goes  ahead 
and  does  it  according  to  the  light  of  nature  and 
the  sense  that  is  in  him.  Sometimes  it  is  good  ; 
mostly  it  is  n't,  but  at  least  he  has  done  it  out  of 
himself  and  by  himself.  When  you  write  a  sym- 
[307  1 


The  Dominant  Strain 


phony,  you  do  it  out  of  yourself,  but  not  by  your 
self.  You  do  it  by  the  exact  rules  that  somebody 
else  before  you  has  laid  down.  You  can  have  just 
so  many  themes  and  so  many  episodes,  though  it 
would  puzzle  the  Concertmeister  of  the  heavenly 
choir  to  tell  where  tjie  themes  leave  off'  and  the 
episodes  begin.  You  know  you  have  got  those 
rules  to  hang  on  to,  and  they  are  a  great  support  in 
seasons  of  mental  famine.  Two  themes  and  a  sub 
sidiary,  and  a  lot  of  episodes  for  padding:  that 's  all 
you  need,  and  they  are  bound  to  come  on  in  just 
a  given  order.  Can  you  imagine  a  novelist  sitting 
down  and  fitting  his  work  neatly  into  a  box 
measured  off  into  compartments  :  one  hero,  one 
heroine,  one  extra,  plus  episodic  sunsets  and  moon 
beams  galore  ?  Not  much  !  He  makes  his  rules  as 
he  goes  along.  Sally,  which  is  greater,  to  create  a 
gown,  or  to  cut  it  out  by  a  paper  pattern  ?  " 

"  To  cut  it  out,  of  course,"  Sally  answered  un 
expectedly.  "The  patterns  never  fit,  and  it  is 
more  work  to  bring  them  into  the  shape  of  any 
human  being  than  it  is  to  start  out  with  a  free 
hand,  in  the  first  place." 

But  Miss  Gannion  challenged  her. 

"  Sally,  did  you  ever  make  a  gown  ? " 

"  Never  ;  but  that  does  n't  prevent  my  having 
theories,""  Sally  replied  airily. 
[308  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  And  I  have  had  practice.  I  attempted  once, 
when  my  years  were  less  and  my  zeal  more,  to 
clothe  an  orphan  with  the  work  of  rny  own  hands. 
I  thought  I  would  operate  free  hand,  as  you  call 
it,  and  I  wish  you  could  have  beheld  the  result. 
The  orphan's  own  mother  would  never  have  rec 
ognized  her  babe  in  the  midst  of  the  strange, 
poly  angular  bundle  of  cloth.  I  suspect  that  the 
same  might  be  said  of  a  good  many  novelists,  and 
that  a  judicious  trimming  of  the  seams  accord 
ing  to  some  established  pattern  might  improve 
their  work." 

Arlt  nodded  approvingly. 

"  As  usual,  Miss  Gannion  has  spoken  wisely," 
he  remarked. 

"  Miss  Gannion  has  only  echoed  my  words," 
Sally  objected. 

"  Not  at  all.  You  said  it  was  harder  to  work 
from  a  pattern  ;  I  merely  suggested  that  the  re 
sults  were  more  satisfactory." 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  Sally  returned  promptly, 
"  I  don't  care  about  that,  so  long  as  the  vote  goes 
against  Bobby." 

"  And  then,  this  matter  of  studying,"  Bobby 

went   on,    disdaining   her    interruption.     "  Now, 

when  you  get  hard  up  for  ideas,  Arlt,  when  you 

actually  can't  get  enough  out  of  your  gray  matter 

[309] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


to  fill  up  your  pattern,  you  go  off  somewhere  and 
study  something.     Now,  if  I  — 

"  What  have  you  to  do  with  it,  Bobby  ?  "  Miss 
Gannion  queried. 

"  I  represent  literature,  of  course,  just  as  Arlt 
represents  music.  If  I  were  to  go  off  and  study 
something,  what  would  you  all  think  ?  " 

"  That  it  was  the  best  possible  thing  you  could 
possibly  do,11  Sally  retorted. 

Bobby  frowned. 

"  You  are  so  feminine  and  subjective,  Sally. 
I  suppose  you  can't  help  it,  though.  But  really 
—  Arlt,  for  instance,  has  produced  a  prize  com 
position,  while  he  is  still  studying.  That's 
exactly  what  we  used  to  do  in  prep,  school. 
Fancy  a  school  for  novelists,  with  night  classes 
for  indigent  poets  !  It  would  be  a  parallel 
case ;  but  what  would  be  the  effect  upon  litera 
ture  ?  " 

Arlt  rose  deliberately  and  crossed  the  room  to 
the  empty  chair  at  Miss  Gannion's  side. 

"  All  in  all,"  he  answered  quietly  ;  "  from  my 
slight  knowledge  of  the  teeming  millions  who  are 
standing  in  line  before  the  portals  of  American 
literature,  I  think  the  establishment  of  such  a 
school  ought  to  be  the  first  duty  of  a  self-respect 
ing  American  government." 
[310] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Thayer,  meanwhile,  was  preparing  for  a  longer 
absence  from  America  than  even  Arlt  was  aware. 
The  late  winter  and  early  spring  had  been  for  him 
a  season  of  perfect  professional  success.  Faust 
had  been  the  first  of  many  operas,  for  the  illness 
of  the  regular  baritone  had  taken  a  sudden  turn 
for  the  worse  and  had  ended  his  work  for  the  sea 
son,  and  the  manager  had  insisted  that  Thayer 
should  fill  his  place.  The  event  had  fully  justified 
the  prediction  of  the  old  maestro,  and  in  his  operatic 
roles  Thayer  was  finding  out  where  his  real  great 
ness  lay.  His  mental  personality,  as  well  as  his 
huge  figure,  demanded  room  to  manifest  itself. 
His  acting  was  dramatic,  yet  full  of  control  and 
reserve  power,  and  his  voice,  fresh  from  its  weeks 
of  rest,  richer  and  stronger  than  ever,  was  endowed 
with  a  new  note  of  pathos,  of  longing  for  something 
quite  beyond  his  power  of  attainment.  Measured 
by  the  eye,  Thayer  held  the  world  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand.  The  ear  alone  betrayed  the  fact  that 
he  found  the  world  as  hollow  as  the  curve  of  his 
encircling  fingers.  But  when  Thayer  squared  his 
jaw  and  threw  back  his  shoulders  before  one  of 
his  great  arias,  eye  and  ear  united  in  saying  that 
the  time  would  come  when,  by  sheer  might  of  his 
will,  he  would  fill  up  that  world  until  the  weight 
of  its  fulness  should  fit  his  encircling  hand  with  a 


The  Dominant  Strain 


contact  as  absolute  as  it  would  be  lasting.  Mean 
while,  he  was  biding  his  time. 

Nominally,  he  was  going  to  Germany  for  a  little 
study  and  much  rest.  In  reality,  he  was  consid 
ering  an  invitation  to  sing  at  Bayreuth,  that 
summer ;  and  among  his  papers  was  an  unsigned 
contract  which  would  keep  him  in  European  cities 
during  the  whole  of  the  following  winter.  He 
was  leaving  his  plans  undecided,  until  he  could 
hear  definite  news  from  Beatrix. 

Living  within  a  block  of  her  house,  he  had 
nevertheless  seen  her  but  once  since  Lorimer"s 
death.  Once  only,  less  than  a  week  after  the 
funeral,  she  had  received  him  when  he  called. 
The  call  had  been  an  uncomfortable  one  for  them 
both.  Neither  had  been  able  to  forget  that  morn 
ing  together  in  the  cottage.  It  had  been  impos 
sible  for  them  to  meet  as  if  that  hour  had  never 
been  ;  neither  could  they  accept  the  truth  which 
had  revealed  itself  at  that  time,  and  face  its  con 
sequences.  As  yet,  the  time  for  that  had  not 
come.  Nevertheless,  they  both  felt  relieved  when 
the  call  was  ended.  Living  side  by  side  in  the 
same  social  circle,  they  could  not  fail  to  meet,  as 
time  went  on  and  Beatrix  resumed  her  old  place 
in  the  world.  Any  change  in  their  attitude  to 
each  other  would  not  pass  unchallenged.  They 
[312] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


were  bound  to  meet ;  it  was  imperative  that  they 
should  meet  in  precisely  the  old  way.  They  both 
were  wise  enough  to  feel  that  the  sooner  they  met, 
the  better.  Unbroken  ice  thickens  most  quickly. 
However,  when  Thayer,  after  a  half-hour  of  plat 
itudes,  went  down  the  steps,  Beatrix,  locked  into 
her  own  room,  paced  the  floor,  to  and  fro,  to  and 
fro  again,  like  a  caged  panther,  while  Thayer 
walked  the  streets  until  time  to  dress  for  the  stage, 
and  then  sang  the  part  of  Valentine  with  a  furious 
madness  of  despair  which  merely  added  another 
stiff'  little  leaf  to  his  garland  of  fame.  The  next 
day,  the  papers  waxed  enthusiastic  over  Thayers 
temperament,  and  Beatrix,  alone  in  her  room,  read 
the  papers  and  smiled  sadly  to  herself  as  she  read. 
Thayer's  fate  was,  in  a  sense,  less  hard  to  bear 
than  her  own.  He  could  find  outlet  for  his  sorrow. 
She,  perforce,  was  dumb. 

Since  that  day,  Thayer  had  caught  no  glimpse 
of  Beatrix.  She  had  seen  him  repeatedly,  how 
ever,  when  she  had  been  driving ;  and  once,  at 
Bobby's  urgent  pleading,  hidden  from  view  in  the 
back  of  a  box,  she  had  heard  him  sing  Valentine. 
On  the  way  home,  she  had  decided  that,  after  all, 
perhaps  his  fate  was  no  easier  than  hers  to  bear. 
His  sorrow  had  measured  itself  by  the  greatness 
of  his  personality. 

[313] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


As  the  May  days  passed  by,  rumors  reached  the 
ears  of  Thayer  that  all  was  not  well  with  Beatrix. 
In  her  strict  retirement,  he  could  get  no  word 
from  her ;  but  at  length,  as  the  rumors  increased, 
he  sought  out  Bobby  Dane.  When  he  came 
away  from  Bobby,  his  face  was  stern  and  seamed 
with  deep  lines  around  his  rigid  lips,  and  he 
vouchsafed  to  Arlt  no  reason  for  his  sudden  post 
ponement  of  the  date  for  their  sailing. 

"  The  first  of  July  will  bring  us  there  in  season," 
he  explained  briefly.  "  I  find  I  can't  leave  New 
York  until  after  the  twentieth." 

So,  in  the  first  fierce  heat  of  early  June,  the 
days  dragged  slowly  along.  Day  after  day,  Thayer 
sat  long  at  his  desk  in  the  attitude  of  passive  wait 
ing.  Now  and  then  he  read  over  his  unsigned 
contracts,  wondering,  meanwhile,  whether  he  would 
ever  sign  them.  If  Beatrix  lived,  he  had  deter 
mined  to  spend  the  next  year  abroad.  In  the 
other  event —  He  shook  his  head. 

Nothing  then  could  make  much  difference  in 
his  future. 


[314] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-THREE 

DURING  the  second  week  in  June,  Bea 
trix's    baby    was    born,  and   for   days 
afterward,  the  mother's  life,  so  long  in 
danger,  now  hung  by  a  thread.     Then  the  good 
old    fibre    of    the    Danes    reasserted    itself,    and 
Beatrix    came    slowly    upward    from    the    verge 
of  the    River   of  Death.     Bobby's    face    cleared 
itself  of  its  shadows,  Thayer  signed  his  contracts 
and,  the  next    week,  he  and  Arlt   finally  sailed 
for  Europe. 

In  the  long  days  of  her  convalescence,  Beatrix 
manifested  an  utter  indifference  to  the  tidings  from 
the  outer  world.  She  lay  by  the  hour,  her  baby 
on  her  arm,  looking  down  at  the  fuzzy  little  head 
and  the  red  little  face  whose  indeterminate  feat 
ures  were  fast  taking  the  stamp  of  those  of  their 
father.  Strange  to  say,  the  fact  caused  Beatrix 
no  repulsion.  The  fires  of  her  being  seemed  to 
have  burned  themselves  out,  and  even  her  feeling 
to  Lorimer  shared  in  her  general  apathy.  In  the 
weeks  which  had  followed  his  death,  she  had  made 
[315] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


up  her  mind  that  the  baby  would  be  fashioned  in 
his  image ;  and  she  accepted  the  fact  philosophi 
cally,  as  a  part  of  her  life  from  which  there  was 
no  appeal. 

From  the  first,  the  baby  was  a  quiet  child. 
Apparently  he  shared  his  mother's  apathy  towards 
all  things,  and  he  lay  by  the  hour  in  a  sluggish 
drowse,  leaving  his  mother  free  to  allow  her 
thoughts  to  wander  at  will.  They  did  wander, 
too.  Lying  there,  passive,  in  her  luxurious  room, 
Beatrix's  mind  scaled  the  heights  of  heaven, 
sounded  the  depths  of  hell.  The  one  had  lain 
within  her  reach ;  but  she  had  never  known  it 
until  too  late.  The  other  had  crossed  her  path 
in  the  past ;  it  was  opening  before  her  future. 
Her  baby  boy,  so  plainly  created  in  the  physical 
likeness  of  his  father,  could  not  have  failed  to  re 
ceive  something  of  his  moral  nature.  She  quailed 
before  the  grim  promise  of  the  future  and,  draw 
ing  the  blanket  over  her  face,  she  tried  to  shut 
out  the  sight  and  the  thought  of  her  child.  And, 
in  the  first  weeks  of  her  wedded  life,  she  had  so 
longed  for  the  time  when  a  baby  head  should  cuddle 
into  the  curve  of  her  arm  !  At  the  thought,  she 
pulled  the  blanket  away  again  impetuously  and, 
of  its  own  accord,  her  arm  tightened  around  the 
little  bundle  of  flannels.  He  was  not  entirely 
[316] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Lorimer's  child  ;  he  was  her  own,  her  very  own. 
He  must  have  inherited  something  of  the  sturdy 
constitution,  the  steady  nerves  of  the  Danes. 
The  stronger,  better  blood  was  bound  to  triumph  ; 
and  she  would  work  unceasingly  to  oust  that 
other  taint  from  his  nature.  He  was  her  child ; 
she  loved  him,  and  she  would  give  her  life  to  the 
training  which  should  make  him  able  to  wipe  out 
the  stain  upon  his  father's  record. 

July  was  burning  the  white  asphalt  streets, 
before  Beatrix  was  strong  enough  to  be  moved  to 
Monomoy.  Bobby  dropped  in  to  see  her,  the 
afternoon  before  she  left  town. 

"  Funny  little  beggar  ! "  he  observed,  as  he  sat 
down  opposite  Beatrix  and  gravely  inspected  the 
baby  in  her  arms. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him  ? "  Beatrix  asked, 
while  she  smoothed  down  the  wholly  superfluous 
skirt  and  then,  tilting  the  baby  forward,  straight 
ened  the  frills  on  the  back  of  his  little  yoke. 

"  Oh,  he 's  not  so  bad  as  he  might  be,"  Bobby 
responded  encouragingly,  as  he  snapped  his  fingers 
in  the  face  of  the  child  who  stared  back  at  him 
impassively. 

The  mother's  face  flushed. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Bobby  ? "  she  asked  a 
little  sharply. 

[317] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Too  late,  Bobby  saw  his  blunder.  In  his  con 
sternation,  he  blundered  yet  more. 

"  I  had  no  idea  he  would  be  half  so  presentable 
a  boy.  Just  the  living  image  of  Lorimer  ;  is  n't 
he  ?  " 

"  You  see  it,  too  ?  " 

Bobby  was  at  a  loss  to  interpret  the  sudden 
incisive  note  in  her  voice.  No  one  had  warned 
him  that  the  baby's  likeness  to  his  father  had 
been  a  forbidden  subject,  and  he  could  not  know- 
that  Beatrix,  in  brooding  over  the  matter,  had 
reached  a  point  where  she  questioned  whether  the 
resemblance  might  not  exist  solely  in  her  own 
imagination.  Bobby's  next  words  annulled  that 
hope  and  confirmed  her  fears. 

"  He  's  as  like  him  as  two  peas,  cunning  as  he 
can  be.  There,  boy,  look  at  jour  Uncle  Bobby  !  " 
Bobby  bent  forward  and  with  his  forefinger  gently 
tilted  the  little  face  upward.  "  Lori mer's -eyes  to 
perfection,"  he  observed.  Then,  as  he  met  Beatrix's 
eyes,  he  suddenly  understood  their  wild  appeal. 
Dropping  the  baby's  chin,  he  laid  his  hand  on  his 
cousin's  shoulder.  "  I  would  n't  worry  about  that, 
Beatrix,"  he  added  reassuringly.  "  He  probably 
will  take  it  out  in  looking,  and,  for  his  character, 
hark  back  to  some  remote  Dane  or  other.  Lori 
mer  was  a  handsome  fellow,  and  the  baby  might 
[318] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


do  worse  than  look  like  him.  Otherwise,  he  may 
go  off  on  a  tangent.  Suppose  he  should  take 
after  me,  for  instance  !  " 

Bobby  spoke  cheerily,  hoping  that  Beatrix's 
laugh  would  follow  his  words.  Instead,  she  caught 
his  hand  with  her  disengaged  one  and  pressed  it 
fiercely  to  her  cheek. 

"  Oh,  Bobby,  I  wish  he  would !  "  she  cried. 

Bobby  looked  rather  abashed.  He  and  Bea 
trix  had  been  intimate  from  their  babyhood  ;  yet 
neither  one  of  them  was  prone  to  self-betrayal, 
and  this  was  the  most  demonstrative  scene  which 
had  ever  taken  place  between  the  cousins.  As  a 
rule,  they  were  too  sure  of  each  other  to  feel  the 
need  for  expressions  of  affection.  For  a  minute, 
Bobby  patted  Beatrixes  cheek  writh  clumsy  gentle 
ness.  Then  he  returned  to  the  baby. 

"  Come  here,  old  man  !  Come  to  your  Uncle 
Bobby  !  "  he  urged,  holding  out  his  hands  invit 
ingly.  "  Come  along  here.""  And  before  Beatrix 
could  utter  a  word  of  protesting  caution,  the  baby 
was  lying  in  the  hollow  of  Bobby's  elbow  and 
blinking  up  at  his  new  nurse  with  round  brown 
eyes. 

Bobby  stared  down  at  him  benignly. 

"  Feels  cunning  ;  does  n't  he,  Beatrix  ?  He 
seems  to  fit  into  one's  grip  rather  well.  One 
[319] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


can't  help  liking  the  little  beggar.  By  the  way, 
what 's  his  name  ?  " 

"  Sidney,"  Beatrix  responded  quietly. 

"  The  deuce  ! "  In  his  surprise,  Bobby  almost 
dropped  the  baby. 

Beatrix  answered   his  unspoken  thought. 

"  Yes,  I  have  decided  that  it  is  best.  I  must 
meet  fate  anyway,  and  I  may  as  well  do  it  boldly, 
with  a  direct  challenge.  The  name  won't  make 
any  difference  to  the  baby,  and  it  may  help  to 
make  me  more  patient  and  forgiving." 

Gently  Bobby  laid  the  baby  back  into  Beatrix's 
arms.  Then  he  rose. 

"  No,"  he  said  slowly ;  "  it  won't  make  any 
difference,  and  it  gives  the  chance  of  bringing  the 
name  back  to  its  old  standing.  You  may  take 
lots  of  comfort  with  the  boy,  Beatrix.  I  hope  so 
with  all  my  heart,  for  I  know  how  you  need  it. 
Things  have  gone  rather  against  you,  these  last 
months  ;  but  perhaps  the  bad  times  are  all  over 
now."  At  the  door,  he  lingered  and  looked  back. 
"  If  you  need  me  at  Monomoy,  Beatrix,  don't 
hesitate  to  send  for  me.  Sometimes  it  is  a  com 
fort  to  have  somebody  of  one's  own  generation 
within  hail." 

Six  weeks  later,  she  realized  the  truth  of  his 
words  when  Bobby  came  striding  into  the  room, 
[320] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


with  the  family  doctor  at  his  heels.  For  the  past 
forty-eight  hours,  Beatrix  had  watched  convulsion 
after  convulsion  rack  the  tiny  frame,  wear  itself 
out  and  die  away,  only  to  be  followed  by  another 
and  yet  another.  Under  this  new  sorrow,  the 
grandparents  had  given  way  entirely.  They 
were  powerless  to  help,  and  Beatrix,  pitying  their 
misery  which  she  knew  was  more  than  half  for  her 
sake,  had  sent  them  away  from  the  room.  For 
forty-eight  hours,  she  and  the  nurse  had  kept  an 
unbroken  vigil ;  and  Beatrix  had  held  herself 
steady  until  she  had  caught  sight  of  Bobby's 
strong,  happy,  pitiful  face  in  the  doorway. 

When  she  came  to  herself  once  more,  she  was 
lying  on  the  couch  in  the  hall,  with  Bobby  beside 
her  and  Bobby's  protecting  arm  around  her 
shoulders. 

"  It  may  not  be  so  bad,  dear,""  he  was  saying 
soothingly.  "  Schirnier  will  pull  him  through,  if 
anybody  can,  and  he  says  it  is  n't  at  all  hopeless. 
Lots  of  youngsters  have  convulsions  and  come  out 
of  them,  jolly  as  grigs." 

Beatrix  saw  no  need  for  telling  him  the  new 
fear  which  had  tortured  her,  during  those  endless 
hours  of  waiting  after  she  had  sent  off  her  tele 
gram.  Instead,  she  took  his  sympathy  as  it  was 
given,  with  loving  optimism  ;  but  she  nestled  even 
21  [  321  J 


The  Dominant  Strain 


more  closely  against  her  cousin's  side,  as  if  for  the 
hour  she  gained  strength  from  the  touch  of  his 
protecting  arm.  It  was  her  one  spot  of  perfect 
restfulness. 

Late  that  night,  Bobby  had  a  talk  with  the 
doctor.  It  left  him  glad  that  already  he  had 
spoken  with  encouragement  to  Beatrix.  The  next 
two  days,  he  gave  his  time  to  her  absolutely. 
Then  his  official  summons  came,  and  reluctantly 
he  returned  to  his  desk. 

By  the  time  Beatrix  was  in  town  again,  she 
was  ready  to  admit  to  herself  that  hopelessness 
might  mean  something  worse  than  death.  By 
the  end  of  the  winter,  the  might  had  ceased  to  be 
potential  and  had  become  actual.  Since  those 
August  days  at  Monomoy,  the  convulsions  had 
recurred  at  irregular  intervals.  The  physical 
constitution  of  the  Danes  had  refused  to  give 
way  to  them ;  the  nervous  instability  of  the 
Lorimers  had  yielded  to  them  utterly.  Unless 
some  miracle  intervened,  the  child  must  face  a 
future  of  vigorous  body  and  enfeebled  brain  ;  and 
Beatrix,  as  she  watched  him,  told  herself  the 
melancholy  truth  that  the  day  of  miracles  was 
irrevocably  dead.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  years 
were  stretching  out  before  her  in  an  empty, 
unending  trail,  that  she  must  follow  it  alone, 
[322] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


hand  in  hand  with  her  child,  bound  forever  to 
watch  for  the  signs  of  an  intellect  which  never, 
never  should  appear.  And  she  was  the  one  to 
blame.  It  was  no  less  her  own  fault,  because  she 
had  assumed  the  responsibility  in  arrogant  ignor 
ing  of  its  true  import. 

One  afternoon  in  late  May  found  her  sitting  by 
the  open  window  with  the  child  in  her  arms,  when 
Thayer  was  announced.  She  greeted  him  with 
something  of  her  old  cordiality.  Then  she  rang 
for  the  nurse  to  take  away  the  baby. 

"  When  did  you  get  home  again  ? "  she  asked, 
when  they  were  seated  alone  together. 

"  This  morning.  I  landed  at  ten,  and  I  came 
directly  to  you." 

She  ignored  the  eagerness  of  his  tone. 

"  You  have  been  wonderfully  successful,  I  am  told." 

"  Well  enough.  It  was  nothing  wonderful, 
though." 

"  Bobby  has  kept  me  informed  of  your  glories," 
she  insisted,  with  a  slight  smile  ;  "  and  Mr.  Arlt 
has  really  enjoyed  them  as  well  as  if  they  had 
been  his  own." 

"That  is  characteristic  of  Arlt.  His  letters 
were  noncommittal ;  but  Bobby  says  he  has  had 
his  own  fair  share  of  honors.  I  am  glad,  for  he 
deserves  them." 

[323] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Indeed  he  does,"  she  assented  heartily.  "  We 
all  are  so  glad  for  him  ;  and  it  is  a  delight  to 
watch  the  odd,  boyish  modesty  with  which  he 
accepts  his  own  fame.  He  is  the  most  unspoiled 
genius  I  have  ever  known." 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Thayer  grew  restless 
under  it.  He  had  not  hurried  his  return,  left  his 
luncheon  un tasted  and  escaped  from  a  dozen  re 
porters,  in  order  to  sit  and  discuss  Arlt  with  that 
black-gowned  woman  the  tip  of  whose  finger  out 
weighed  for  him  the  clumsy  honors  of  the  earth. 
All  the  way  over,  he  had  paced  the  steamer's  deck 
by  the  hour,  planning  what  words  he  should  say 
to  Beatrix  when  at  last  they  stood  face  to  face, 
with  only  the  long-buried  dead  between  them. 
He  had  supposed  that  he  had  learned  his  lesson 
by  heart.  Nevertheless,  now  that  he  was  at  last 
in  her  presence,  his  words  fled  from  his  mind. 
Beatrix  broke  the  silence. 

"  You  have  seen  Bobby,  then  ?  " 

"  He  met  me  at  the  steamer." 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  half-appealingly, 
half-defiantly. 

"  And  he  told  you  —  " 

"  He  has  told  me  everything,"  Thayer  inter 
rupted  her.  He  rose  restlessly,  crossed  the  room 
to  the  mantel  and  examined  a  vase  with  unseeing 
[324] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


eyes.  Then,  returning,  he  halted  directly  before 
her,  straightened  his  shoulders  and  drew  a  deep, 
full  breath.  "  Beatrix  ?  "  he  said  unsteadily. 

She  shrank  from  before  the  words  she  had  been 
dreading  for  so  long. 

"  Don't !  "  she  begged  him. 

"  But  I  must."11  His  voice  was  steady  now. 
"  We  both  of  us  know  the  truth,  and  the  time 
has  come  when  we  can  acknowledge  it.  I  have 
waited  long,  dear,  long  and  patiently.  For  fifteen 
months,  I  have  left  you  to  yourself  and  to  the 
past.  Now  it  is  time  for  the  future.  I  have  come 
home,  Beatrix,  to  marry  you  at  last." 

Before  the  glad  tenderness  that  thrilled  in  his 
tone,  she  sank  back  in  her  deep  chair  and  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands.  Thayer  waited  quietly, 
patiently.  He  had  told  his  story  ;  he  could  afford 
to  wait  for  her  answer,  since  he  never  doubted 
what  it  was  to  be.  The  silence  between  them 
lasted  for  moments.  From  upstairs  in  an 
other  part  of  the  house,  there  came  a  fretful 
childish  cry.  Then  the  stillness  dropped  again. 
At  length,  Beatrix  let  her  hands  fall  into  her  lap. 
There  was  an  instant  of  utter  listlessness ;  then 
quietly  she  rose  and  stood  facing  him,  drawn  to 
her  full  height.  Her  cheeks  were  white,  her  eyes 
unstained  by  any  tears,  her  voice  quite  level. 
[325] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said  slowly  ;  "  but  what  you 
ask  is  impossible." 

He  started,  as  if  struck  with  a  lash. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  I  cannot  marry  you." 

He  stared  at  her  in  amazement,  while  the  color 
left  his  cheeks  and  then  rushed  again  to  his 
temples  where  the  veins  stood  out  like  knotted 
cords.  For  the  moment,  he  was  angry,  baffled  by 
the  shock  of  her  unexpected  answer.  Then  he 
mastered  himself. 

"  Do  you  not  love  me  any  longer  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Any  longer  ?  "  Her  tone  sought  to  express 
haughty  disdain  ;  but  her  eyes  drooped  before  the 
fire  in  his  own. 

"  Never  mind  the  words,"  he  said  sharply.  "  In 
times  like  this,  one  can't  stop  to  pick  for  rhetori 
cal  effects.  It  is  enough  that  I  love  you  with  all 
the  manhood  there  is  in  me,  and  that  for  months 
I  have  counted  upon  winning  your  love  in  return. 
And  now  — 

She  interrupted  him. 

"  And  now  you  have  found  out  your  mistake," 
she  said  sadly. 

"  Yes."1     There  was  a  long  interval  of  silence, 
before  he  added,  "  And  is  this  final  ?  " 
[326] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  It  is."  Her  stiffened  lips  could  scarcely  form 
the  words. 

He  turned  to  go  away.  All  the  alertness 
which  had  marked  his  coming  had  dropped 
away  from  him.  He  moved  slowly  and  with 
drooping  shoulders.  Already  his  face  had  grown 
haggard  underneath  the  bronzing  of  his  sea 
voyage.  Beatrix  stood  motionless,  watching  him, 
struggling  to  master  herself,  to  hold  herself 
firmly  to  her  resolve  which  had  been  taking 
shape  within  her,  during  all  that  past  winter 
and  spring. 

Halfway  across  the  room,  Thayer  hesitated, 
tunied  and  came  back  to  her  side. 

"  Beatrix,"  he  said  impetuously  ;  "  we  may  as 
well  face  this  thing  squarely.  It  won't  be  the  first 
time.  We  did  n't  wreck  the  future  then  ;  we 
mustn't  do  it  now.  The  cases  are  different, 
though.  This  time,  the  danger  lies  in  half-truths. 
We  must  speak  plainly." 

She  attempted  to  check  him  ;  but,  for  the  once, 
she  was  powerless  to  stem  the  tide  of  his  words, 
and  he  hurried  on,  — 

"  We  loved  each  other.    There  is  no  disloyalty  to 

Lorimer  in  admitting  it  now.     He  belonged   to 

the  past,  and,  in  that  past,  you  belonged  to  him. 

The    past    is  over  and  ended   now,  and,  for  the 

[327] 


Tli e  Dominant  Strain 


future,  we  must  belong  to  each  other.  It  is  for 
that  that  I  am  here."" 

She  tried  in  vain  to  control  her  voice.  Then 
she  shook  her  head. 

"  What  has  come  between  us  ?  "  he  demanded. 
"  You  did  love  me.  Look  up,  Beatrix !  Yes, 
your  eyes  tell  the  truth  about  it.  You  love  me 
now  ;  I  am  here  to  prove  it,  and  to  marry  you  in 
spite  of  yourself." 

Gently  she  put  away  his  arms  and  faced  him. 

"  No.     It  is  impossible." 

He  wavered  before  the  finality  of  her  tone. 

"  But  you  love  me,"  he  urged. 

She  was  silent,  and  stood  with  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  floor  at  his  feet.  Then,  of  a  sudden,  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his,  and  Thayer  was  dazzled 
by  the  light  that  was  shining  in  them. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  with  a  quiet  dignity 
which  he  could  not  gainsay.  "  And  that  is  the 
very  reason  that  I  will  not  marry  you.  I  love 
you  too  well  —  so  well  that  I  can  never  allow  you 
to  become  the  father  of  Sidney  Lorimer's  child." 


[328] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-FOUR 

"  W  BELIEV7E  my  world  is  overcrowded,1"  Sally 
said,  one  January  afternoon,  two  years 

-*-    later. 

"  Arlt,  why  don't  you  take  the  hint  ?  "  Bobby 
asked  languidly.  "  I  am  too  comfortable  to  stir, 
and  she  evidently  wishes  to  get  rid  of  somebody." 

"  Possibly  she  means  me  ;  but  I  was  the  last 
to  come,  so  I  shall  outstay  you  both,"  Miss  Gan- 
riion  said,  laughing.  "  At  least,  Sally,  your  hos 
pitality  does  you  credit." 

With  leisurely  fingers,  Sally  was  opening  her 
teaball ;  but  Bobby  interposed. 

"  I  would  n't  make  any  tea  for  us,  Sally.  I 
know  you  are  afraid  it  may  not  hold  out  for 
your  crowded  universe,  and  we  three  have  been 
here  often  enough  to  have  dispelled  any  illusions 
about  the  quality  of  your  cups.  Two  are  cracked, 
and  one  has  a  nick  exactly  in  the  spot  where  we 
drink.  I  suspect  Arlt  of  having  cut  his  wisdom 
teeth  on  it." 

"  Only  women  cut  their  wisdom  teeth  on  a 
teacup,"  Miss  Gannion  observed.  "But  really, 
[329] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Sally,  I  would  save  my  tea  until  the  crowd  shows 
itself." 

Sally  shook  her  head. 

"  You  interrupted  me  in  the  midst  of  my 
thesis." 

Bobby  interrupted  again. 

"  It  is  our  only  chance  to  get  in  a  word.  We 
have  to  insert  its  thin  edge  at  a  comma,  or  else 
keep  still.  You  never  have  any  conversational 
semicolons,  to  say  nothing  of  periods." 

"As  I  was  saying,"  Sally  repeated  pertina 
ciously  ;  "  my  world  is  overcrowded.  I  have  so 
many  acquaintances  that  I  never  get  time  to 
enjoy  my  friends." 

"  What  about  now  ?  "  Bobby  queried.  "  Here 
are  we,  and  here  is  time.  Which  is  lacking  : 
enjoyment,  or  friendship?" 

"  Oh,  this  is  an  interlude,  and  does  n't  count. 
We  shall  just  get  into  the  midst  of  a  little 
rational  conversation,  though,  and  two  or  three 
stupid  people  will  come  in  and  reduce  us  to  talk 
ing  about  the  weather." 

"  You  might  send  out  cards,"  Arlt  suggested, 
with  the  hesitating  accent  which  was  so  char 
acteristic  of  him.  "  Why  not  announce  that  on 
Tuesdays  you  are  at  home  to  clever  people  and 
friends  only  ?  " 

[330] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"Yes;  but  it  is  no  subject  for  joking,"  Sally 
persisted.  "  Last  Tuesday  in  all  that  storm,  for 
the  first  time  this  winter,  Mr.  Thayer  came  to 
see  me.  I  know  how  busy  he  is,  and  I  was  just 
preparing  to  make  the  most  of  his  call,  when 
Mrs.  Stanley  came  swishing  and  creaking  into 
the  room,  and  she  babbled  about  her  servants 
and  her  lumbago  until  Mr.  Thayer  took  his 
departure.  I  wanted  to  administer  poison." 

"  Try  an  anodyne,"  Bobby  advised  her.  "  They 
say  that  stout  people  yield  easily  to  their  in 
fluence.  By  the  way,  why  is  it  polite  to  call  a 
woman  stout,  but  rude  in  the  extreme  to  dub 
her  fat?  That  is  one  of  the  problems  I  have 
never  been  able  to  solve.  I  used  the  wrong  word 
in  regard  to  Mrs.  Stanley,  one  night,  and  she 
overheard  me.  Since  then,  she  hauls  in  her  latch- 
string  hand  over  hand,  whenever  I  turn  the 
corner." 

"Do  you  mind,  Bobby?"  Sally  inquired. 
"  The  two  most  peaceful  years  of  my  social  life 
were  the  years  immediately  following  the  day  I 
advised  Mrs.  Stanley  not  to  attempt  Juliet  in 
public.  Lately,  I  have  wished  that  her  memory 
were  just  a  bit  more  retentive.  Tell  me,  has 
anybody  seen  Beatrix,  this  week  ?  " 

"  She  was  at  Carnegie  Hall,  last  night." 
[331] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Arlfs  face  brightened. 

"Really?" 

"  Yes,  I  coaxed  her  into  going.  You  ought  to 
feel  honored,  Arlt ;  it  is  the  first  music  she  has 
heard,  this  season." 

"  Has  n't  she  been  to  hear  Mr.  Thayer  ?  " 

"  No ;  she  has  n't  heard  him  since  his  first  season. 
I  tell  her  she  has  no  idea  how  he  has  developed, 
nor  how  much  she  is  losing  ;  but  she  seems  to 
have  lost  her  love  for  music." 

"  Poor,  dear  girl !  I  don't  wonder,"  Sally  said 
impetuously. 

But  Arlt  interposed. 

"  Is  n't  there  a  certain  comfort  to  be  gained 
from  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  hoped  —  I  had  thought 
music  was  to  inspire  and  help  people,  not  to 
amuse  them." 

"  It  does  in  theory,"  Bobby  returned  ;  "  only 
now  and  then  it  reminds  one  of  things,  and  upsets 
the  whole  scheme  of  inspiration.  But  I  was  sur 
prised  that  Beatrix  went,  last  night." 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  "  Arlt  inquired,  with  a 
frankness  which  yet  bore  no  taint  of  egotism. 

"  Not  very  much  ;    but  her  face  at  the  close  of 
your  Andante  told  the  story.      You  touched  her  on 
the  raw,  Arlt ;  but  you  roused  her  pluck  to  bear  it. 
I  think  she  will  send  you  a  note,  to-day." 
[332] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  wonder  if  you  realize  what  an  event  for  your 
friends  this  symphony  was,"  Sally  broke  in. 

Arlt  smiled.  With  growing  manhood,  his 
gravity  also  had  grown ;  but  his  slow  little  smile 
caused  his  face  to  light  wonderfully.  Denied  all 
claim  to  beauty,  there  was  a  great  charm  in  the 
simple,  modest  dignity  with  which  he  bore  himself. 
He  answered  Sally's  last  words  with  an  earnestness 
that  became  him  well. 

"  Without  my  friends,  my  symphony  would 
have  been  left  unwritten." 

"  And  it  was  a  perfect  success,"  Sally  added. 

"  Success  is  never  perfect,"  he  returned  a  little 
sadly.  "  Its  merit  must  lie  in  its  incomplete 
ness,  for  that  just  urges  us  on  to  something 
beyond.  The  success  on  which  we  rest,  is  no 
better  than  a  failure.  Some  day,  I  shall  begin 
my  ideal  symphony ;  but,  by  the  time  I  have 
reached  my  final  Maestoso,  I  shall  have  learned 
that  my  ideal  has  moved  on  again  beyond  my 
reach." 

"  In  other  words,  a  real  genius  is  nothing  but 
an  artistic  butter-fingers,"  Bobby  commented 
irreverently.  "  Stop  your  German  philosophizing, 
Arlt,  and  help  us  enjoy  the  present  by  playing 
your  Scherzo.  Thayer  says  it  is  by  far  the  best 
thing  you  have  ever  done." 
[  333  J 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Obediently  Arlt  crossed  to  the  piano.  In  his 
absorption  in  his  symphony,  he  had  by  no  means 
allowed  his  skill  as  a  pianist  to  rust  for  want  of 
use,  and  a  little  sigh  of  utter  content  went  around 
the  group,  as  they  heard  the  dainty,  clashing  notes 
answer  to  the  touch  of  his  fingers.  He  was  in 
the  full  rhythm  of  his  Scherzo,  playing,  humming, 
or  whistling,  according  to  his  whim  and  to  the 
demands  of  the  orchestral  score,  when  Sally  gave 
a  sudden  exclamation  of  warning. 

"  Behold  the  crowd  !  Here  endeth  the  inter 
lude  !  Enter  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  !  " 

"  What  in  thunder  is  that  woman  doing  here, 
Sally  ?  "  Bobby  demanded,  as  Arlfs  fingers  dropped 
from  the  keys  in  the  very  midst  of  a  phrase. 

Sally  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  the  petulant 
gesture  of  a  naughty  child. 

"  How  in  thunder  should  I  know,  Bobby  ?  I 
wish  you  "cl  ask  her." 

"  No  use.      She  never  takes  a  hint." 

A  sudden  change  came  over  the  group,  as  Mrs. 
Lloyd  Avalons  tripped  daintily  into  the  room. 
Miss  Gannion  straightened  herself  in  her  chair 
and  took  refuge  in  her  lorgnette  ;  Arlfs  artistic 
fire  extinguished  itself,  and  he  once  more  became 
the  taciturn  young  German,  while  Sally  assumed 
certain  of  the  characteristics  of  a  frozen  olive. 
[334] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


Bobby,  however,  continued  to  smile  upon  the 
room  with  unabated  serenity. 

"  What  a  delight  to  find  you  here ! "  Mrs. 
Lloyd  Avalons  exclaimed,  as  she  took  Sally's 
hand. 

"  Miss  Van  Osdel  has  unsuspected  depths  to  her 
nature,"  Bobby  observed  gravely.  "  Long  as  I 
have  known  her,  Mrs.  Avalons,  I  assure  you  I  have 
never  succeeded  in  finding  her  out." 

*'  Oh  —  yes.  How  like  you  that  is,  Mr.  Dane  ! 
But  I  was  including  you  all." 

"  Taking  us  all  in  ? "  Bobby  queried. 

"  Taking  us  just  as  you  find  us,"  Sally  added. 
"  You  also  take  tea,  I  think,  Mrs.  Avalons  ?  " 

"  You  'd  better,"  Bobby  urged,  with  inadvertent 
pointedness.  "We  were  just  saying  that  Miss 
Van  Osdel  brews  wisdom  mingled  with  her  tea." 

"Bobby!"  Sally  adjured  him,  in  a  horrified 
whisper;  but  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  had  already 
turned  to  Arlt. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you  here,  Mr.  Arlt. 
All  your  friends,  to-day,  are  eager  to  congratulate 
you  on  your  wonderful  symphony." 

"  Yes."  Arlt's  tone  was  scarcely  ingratiating, 
as  he  stirred  his  tea  violently. 

"  Yes,  it  was  beautiful,  so  sweet  and  harmoni 
ous.  Really,  you  are  quite  taking  the  city  by 
[  335  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


storm.     You  must  be  very  busy  to  do  so  much 
writing.     Don't  you  get  very  tired?" 

"  Sometimes."  Arlt  emptied  his  cup  at  a 
gulp. 

"  Oh,  you  must !  But  it  is  worth  tiring  one's 
poor  head,  to  achieve  such  splendid  results.  But 
don't  you  ever  rest  ?  All  winter  long,  I  have  been 
hoping  you  would  find  time  to  drop  in  on  me, 
some  Thursday." 

"  Thank  you."  Arlt  attacked  his  extra  lump 
of  sugar  with  his  spoon.  Eluding  his  touch,  it 
flew  across  the  room  and  landed  at  Bobby's  feet. 
Stooping  down,  Bobby  rescued  it  and  gravely 
handed  it  back  to  Arlt. 

"  Try  it  again,  old  man,"  he  said  encouragingly. 
"  You  '11  get  the  proper  range  in  time." 

But  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  returned  to  the  charge. 

"  Well,  as  long  as  you  won't  come  to  me,  I 
must  sei/e  my  chance  here,  if  Miss  Van  Osdel  will 
excuse  me.  We  are  getting  up  a  concert  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Allied  Day  Nurseries,  Mr.  Arlt. 
It  is  to  be  very  select  indeed,  only  artists  of 
established  reputation  are  to  be  invited  to  take 
part,  and  we  shall  keep  the  price  of  the  tickets 
up  high  enough  to  shut  out  any  undesirable 
people  who  might  otherwise  come.  We  are 
counting  on  you  for  two  numbers." 
F3361 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  But  I  cannot  play.11 

"  In  other  words,  Mrs.  Avalons,"  Bobby  re 
marked  ;  "  you  "11  have  to  discount  Arlt." 

"  But  we  must  have  him,"  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons 
said,  in  real  dismay.  "  We  never  thought  of  his 
refusing.'" 

Arlt  shook  his  head  in  grim  silence. 

Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons  took  refuge  in  cajolery. 

"  Oh,  but  you  must !  We  can't  spare  you,  Mr. 
Arlt.  If  you  don't  care  for  the  charity,  you  11  do 
it  for  me  ;  won't  you  ?  " 

Deliberately  Arlt  packed  the  sugar  and  the 
spoon  into  his  cup,  and  set  the  cup  down  on  the 
table.  Then  he  turned  to  face  Mi's.  Lloyd  Avalons 
squarely. 

"  On  the  contrary,  that  is  the  very  reason  I  can 
not  do  it,  Mrs.  Lloyd  Avalons.  When  Miss 
(iannion  introduced  me  to  you  as  Mr.  Thayer's 
accompanist  and  a  pianist  who  needed  engage 
ments,  you  wished  to  refuse  me  a  place  on  your 
programme.  Now  that  others  have  been  good 
enough  to  listen  to  me,  you  can  make  room  for 
two  numbers  by  me.  I  am  very  sorry ;  but  I 
shall  be  unable  to  accept  your  invitation." 

There  was  no  underlying  rancor  in  the  slow, 
deliberate  syllables  ;  they  were  merely  the  state 
ment  of  an  indisputable  fact.  Most  women  would 
22  [  337  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


have  accepted  them  in  silence.  Not  so  with  Mrs. 
Lloyd  Avalons. 

"  But  you  played  for  Miss  Van  Osdel,  last  week,1' 
she  persisted. 

Arlt  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Yes,  I  played  for  Miss  Van  Osdel,  last  week, 
just  as  I  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  playing  for 
her  many  times  more  in  the  future.  However,  that 
is  quite  a  different  matter.  Miss  Van  Osdel  and  I 
are  very  old  friends,  and  it  will  always  be  one  of 
my  very  greatest  pleasures  to  be  entirely  at  her 
service."  He  made  a  quaint  little  bow  in  Sally's 
direction,  and  his  face  lighted  with  the  friendly, 
humorous  smile  she  knew  so  well.  Then  he  added, 
"And  now  I  must  bid  you  all  a  very  good 
afternoon." 

He  bowed  again  and  walked  away,  with  his 
simple  dignity  unruffled  to  the  last.  Society 
might  bless  him,  or  society  might  ban.  Never 
theless,  it  was  by  no  means  Arlt's  intention  to 
turn  his  art  into  a  species  of  lap-dog,  to  come 
trotting  in  at  society's  call,  and  then  be  dismissed 
to  the  outer  darkness  again,  so  soon  as  the  round 
of  its  tricks  was  accomplished.  Egotism  Arlt  had 
not ;  but  his  independence  shrank  at  no  one  of 
the  corollaries  of  his  creed  of  art. 

Bobby  lingered  after  the  others  had  gone  away. 
[338] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  I  say,  Sally,"  he  remarked  at  length,  appar 
ently  apropos  of  nothing  in  particular;  "how 
does  it  happen  that  you  have  never  married 
me?" 

"  Probably  for  the  very  excellent  reason  that 
you  have  never  asked  me,"  Sally  responded 
frankly. 

With  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  Bobby  sauntered 
across  to  the  sofa  where  she  was  sitting.  There 
he  stood  contemplating  her  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  settled  himself  at  her  side. 

"  Well,"  he  said  slowly  ;  "  I  believe  I  might  as 
well  ask  you  now." 


[339] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-FIVE 

"  W  ALMOST  made  a  whole  poem  about  you," 
Bobby  said  to  Thayer,  one  night. 

-*-        Thayer  laughed. 

"  How  far  did  you  get  ?  " 

"  The  last  line." 

"  Then  you  actually  did  make  one." 

Bobby  shook  his  head. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  only  made  the  next  to  the  last 
line  and  the  last.  Then  the  inspiration  gave 
out." 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  Thayer  asked  idly. 

The  mirth  left  Bobby's  face,  and  he  looked  up 
at  his  companion  almost  defiantly. 

"  Forget  the  things  we  cannot, 
And  face  the  things  we  must," 

he  said  slowly. 

The  dark  red  leaped  up  into  Thayer's  face,  as 
he  looked  at  Bobby  keenly. 

"  How  long  have  you  known  it  ?  " 

"  Since  the  day  I  told  you  they  had  come  home 
from  abroad.  You  sang  St.  Paul,  that  night,  you 
[340] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


may  remember,  and  afterwards  I  advised  you  to 
go  into  grand  opera.  A  fellow  with  a  voice  like 
yours  can't  expect  to  have  any  secrets  of  his 
own."  Bobby  paused  ;  then  he  added  thought 
fully,  "  Life  is  bound  to  be  a  good  deal  of  a  bluff 
for  us  all." 

Thayer  walked  on  in  silence  for  seven  or  eight 
blocks. 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it  ? "  he  asked 
then. 

"  I  think  that  I  would  almost  delay  my  own 
wedding,  for  the  sake  of  being  your  best  man." 

"  And  yet,  she  says  it  is  impossible,"  Thayer 
said  thoughtfully. 

"  When  was  that  ?  " 

"  Two  years  ago,  when  I  came  home  from 
Europe." 

"  Oh  !  "  Bobby  said  slowly,  as  the  light  dawned 
upon  him.  "  That  was  the  blow  that  floored  you, 
that  summer;  was  it?  I  never  knew.  What 
was  the  trouble  ?  The  child  ?  " 

Thayers  assent  was  rather  curt  in  its  brevity. 
Bobby's  blunt,  kindly  questions  hurt  him  ;  yet, 
after  all,  there  was  a  sort  of  comfort  in  the  hurt. 
After  two  years  of  silence,  it  was  a  relief  to  be 
able  to  speak  of  his  trouble.  It  had  grown  no 
more,  no  less  with  the  passing  months  ;  it  was  just 
[341] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


what  it  had  been,  at  the  close  of  that  warm  May 
afternoon. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  rather  like  Beatrix  for  the 
stand  she  has  taken,"  Bobby  said  meditatively. 
"She  has  the  sense  to  know  that,  if  she  married 
you  and  made  you  share  the  responsibility  of 
that  child,  it  would  knock  your  singing  higher 
than  a  kite." 

Thayer  interrupted  him  impatiently. 

"  How  much  does  my  singing  amount  to  me  in 
comparison  with  my  love  for  Beatrix?  I  would 
cancel  my  engagements,  to-morrow,  if  she  would 
say  the  word." 

"But,  thank  the  Lord,  she  won't,"  Bobby  re 
plied  placidly.  "  Don't  be  an  ass,  Thayer.  It  is 
a  popular  fiction  that  an  artist  is  expected  to  give 
up  his  work  for  the  sake  of  matrimony  ;  but  it "s  an 
immoral  fable.  The  gods  have  endowed  you  with  a 
voice,  and  you  have  no  business  to  fling  away  the 
gift,  when  your  keeping  it  can  do  so  much  good  in 
the  world.  You  owe  something  to  humanity,  and 
a  lot  more  back  to  the  gods  who  gave  you  the 
voice  ;  you  have  no  moral  right  to  do  anything 
that  will  hinder  your  paying  that  debt.  Beatrix 
knows  this.  She  knows  what  would  be  the  inev 
itable  effect  of  saddling  you  with  the  child,  and 
she  is  right  in  her  decision." 
[342] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  Has  she  been  talking  the  matter  over  with 
you  ? "  Thayer  asked,  vvith  sudden  jealousy. 

Bobby  laughed  scornfully. 

"  No  need.  I  have  eyes  of  my  own,  and  I 
learned  my  Barbara  Celarent  in  junior  year." 

Another  block  was  passed  in  silence.  Then 
Thayer  asked,  — 

"Do  you  see  Mrs.  Lorimer  often  ?" 

"  Every  day  or  so.  I  drop  in  there  when  I 
can,  for  she 's  not  going  out  much,  and  she  needs 
to  see  more  people." 

"  How  is  she  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you,"  Bobby  an 
swered,  while  a  note  of  sadness  crept  into  his 
voice.  "  She  is  giving  her  life  to  that  child  ;  and, 
unless  you  know  the  child,  you  can't  imagine  the 
wear  and  tear  of  such  an  existence.  I  don't  know 
which  would  be  worse,  the  watching  for  the  intel 
lect  which  never  comes,  or  the  waiting  for  the 
convulsions  that  do." 

"What  will  be  the  end  of  it  all?11  Thayer 
broke  out  impetuously. 

Bobby  shook  his  head. 

"God  knows,"  he  said  drearily. 

Bobby  spoke  truly,  for  already  it  seemed  that 
the  divine  plan  was  made  to  take  the  imperfect 
little  life  back  into  its  keeping.  A  sudden  chill,  a 
[  343  ] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


sudden  cold,  and  then  the  grim  word,  pneumonia! 
For  days,  Beatrix  and  the  nurse  hung  over  the 
child,  struggling  almost  against  hope  to  conquer 
the  disease.  Then  it  was  that  Beatrix  realized 
how  truly  she  had  loved  her  little  son,  how  she 
would  miss  even  the  constant  pain  of  his  presence. 
He  was  her  very  own, 'the  one  being  in  the  world 
who  belonged  absolutely  to  her ;  and  she  fought 
for  his  life  with  the  fierceness  of  despair.  Then, 
just  as  it  seemed  that  she  had  triumphed  and  the 
child  was  out  of  danger,  the  same  insidious  foe 
which  had  ended  Lorimer's  life,  attacked  the  life 
of  his  child. 

Alone  in  the  dusky  room,  Beatrix  was  sitting 
on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  her  arm  around  the  boy 
who  had  just  snuggled  down  for  the  night.  Drow 
sily  his  lids  drooped ;  then  he  opened  his  eyes, 
met  her  eyes  and  struggled  up  to  reach  her  face. 

"  Mamma,  kiss  !  "  he  begged. 

That  was  all.  Weakened  by  disease,  the  heart 
had  been  powerless  to  bear  the  strain  of  the  sud 
den  motion,  and  the  boy  fell  into  his  final  sleep, 
cradled  in  his  mother's  arms. 

That  night,  Thayer  sang  The  Flying  Dutchman 

in  the  same  city  where,  four  years  before,  he  had 

sung  St.  Paul.     He  had  not  been  there,  during 

the  intervening   time ;  but  his  public  had  been 

[344] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


faithful  to  his  memory,  and  the  little  opera  house 
was  packed  to  its  utmost  limits  to  do  honor  to  its 
former  favorite,  as  well  as  to  its  one-night  opera 
season.  For  some  unaccountable  reason,  Thayer 
had  liked  the  place.  Both  the  house  and  the 
audience  had  pleased  him,  and  it  had  been  at  his 
own  request  that  the  manager  had  put  on  The 
Flying  Dutchman,  for  that  night. 

During  the  last  few  months,  The  Dutchman  had 
become  Thayer's  favorite  role.  Even  Valentine 
had  palled  upon  him  in  time.  Lingering  deaths 
become  monotonous.  When  one  dies  them,  four 
or  five  times  a  week,  he  longs  to  hasten  the  course 
of  events,  to  change  the  Andante  to  a  Prestissimo. 
To  Thayer's  later  mood,  it  seemed  that,  psycho 
logically  speaking,  Valentine  belonged  to  the  ranks 
of  the  tenors.  His  riper  manhood  demanded 
something  a  little  more  robust. 

Thayer  never  admitted  to  himself  that  his  liking 
for  The  Dutchman  came  from  the  personal  inter 
pretation  which  he  put  upon  the  story.  In  some 
moods,  he  would  have  scoffed  at  the  idea  that 
there  could  be  any  connection  between  himself, 
the  successful  artist  whose  single  surname  on 
the  bill  boards  could  suffice  to  fill  a  house,  and  the 
wretched  Dutchman  whose  one  defiance  hurled 
at  fate  had  condemned  him  to  life-long  wandering 
[345] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


over  the  face  of  the  deep.  Of  course,  he  wandered, 
too  ;  but  it  was  by  easy  stages  and  by  means  of 
Pullmans.  The  parallelism  failed  utterly.  Still, 
there  was  the  possibility  of  ultimate  salvation 
gained  through  the  faithful  love  of  a  woman. 
Nevertheless,  Thayer's  analysis  always  brought 
him  to  the  conclusion  that  he  liked  the  opera 
because  his  death  scene  was  consummated  in  the 
brief  space  of  two  measures. 

Thayer  was  feeling  uncommonly  alert  and  con 
tent,  that  night,  and,  moreover,  he  liked  his 
audience.  Accordingly,  he  gave  them  of  his  best. 
Never  had  his  voice  been  richer,  never  had  it  rung 
with  more  dramatic  power  than  when,  in  his  aria 
of  the  first  act,  he  had  ended  his  lament  with  the 
declaration  of  his  inevitable  release  on  the  slow- 
coming  Judgment  Day.  Then  he  stood  waiting, 
a  huge,  lonely,  brooding  figure,  square-shouldered, 
square-jawed,  defiant  of  fate,  while  softly  the 
chorus  of  sailors  in  the  hold  below  echoed  the 
closing  phrase  of  his  song. 

Even  into  Thayer's  experience,  no  such  ovation 
had  ever  come  before.  At  first,  the  audience  sat 
breathless,  as  if  stunned  by  the  might  of  his 
tragedy.  Then  the  applause  came  crashing  down 
from  the  galleries,  up  from  the  floor,  in  from  the 
boxes,  focussing  itself  from  all  sides  upon  that 
[346] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


single,  lonely,  dominant  figure  before  it.  And 
Cotton  Mather  Thayer,  as  he  listened  with  a 
quiet,  impassive  face,  felt  his  heart  leaping  and 
bounding  within  him.  He  knew,  by  an  instinct 
which  he  had  learned  to  trust  completely,  that  in 
the  years  to  come,  he  would  never  reach  a  greater 
height  of  artistic  success  than  he  had  done  just 
then.  One  such  experience  could  justify  many  a 
year  of  halting  indecision.  Puritan  to  the  core, 
he  yet  had  proved  true  to  his  Slavonic  birthright. 

As  he  left  the  stage  with  Senta  at  the  end 
of  the  second  act,  a  messenger  handed  him  a 
card. 

"  The  gentleman  is  waiting,"  he  added.  "  He 
said  he  must  see  you,  and  that  he  was  in  a 
hurry." 

Thayer  glanced  at  the  card. 

"  Bring  him  to  my  dressing- room,""  he  said. 

He  glanced  up  in  surprise,  as  the  door  opened 
and  Bobby  Dane  entered.  He  had  expected  to 
see  Bobby,  immaculate  in  evening  clothes,  come 
strolling  lazily  in  to  congratulate  him,  as  he  had 
so  often  done  before  when  Thayer  had  sung  in 
cities  near  New  York.  Instead,  Bobby  was  still 
in  morning  dress,  and  his  face  and  manner  be 
tokened  some  great  excitement. 

"  I  only  heard  your  duet,"  he  said  abruptly ; 
[347] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


"  but  they  are  saying  you  have  outdone  yourself. 
Will  it  break  up  your  part,  if  I  tell  you  some 
news  ?  " 

Thayer  paled  suddenly. 

"  Is  Beatrix  —  " 

"  No ;  but  the  boy  died  at  six  o'clock,  this 
afternoon.  I  went  to  the  house ;  but  I  found 
there  was  nothing  I  could  do,  so  I  caught  the 
seven  o'clock  train  and  came  up  to  tell  you.  Sure 
it  won't  upset  your  singing  ?  " 

Thayer  shook  his  head  impatiently. 

"  I  Ve  borne  worse  shocks,  Dane,  and  gone  on 
warbling  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Did 
Beatrix  send  for  me  ?  " 

"  No.  I  only  saw  her  for  a  minute.  But  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  like  to  go  to  her  at 
once.  She  may  need  you." 

Thayer  held  out  his  hand. 

"  This  is  like  you,  Dane.  Thank  you,"  he  said 
briefly,  as  his  man  came  to  warn  him  that  The 
Dutchman's  crew  had  begun  their  chorus. 

Bobby  followed  him  into  the  wings. 

"  There 's  a  train  down  at  two  o'clock,"  he  sug 
gested.  "  Shall  we  take  that  ?  " 

"  The  sooner,  the  better." 

"  I  '11  get  the  places,  then,  and  meet  you  at  the 
hotel  afterwards."  And  Bobby  departed,  just  as 
[348] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  strings  and  wind  gave  out  their  announcement 
of  The  Dutchman's  presence. 

In  the  years  to  come,  Thayer  never  knew  how 
he  went  through  that  final  scene.  It  was  the 
automatic  obedience  of  an  artistic  nature  to  its 
years  of  careful  training.  He  was  conscious  of 
hearing  no  note  from  the  orchestra,  no  sound 
from  his  own  lips.  His  whole  being  was  cen 
tred  in  the  thought  that  at  last  Beatrix  was 
free ;  that,  in  her  final  freedom,  they  must  face 
the  ultimate  crisis  of  their  destinies.  Would  it 
be  for  weal,  or  for  woe  ?  His  brain  refused  to 
give  back  answer  to  the  question.  And,  mean 
while,  the  close-packed  audience  was  thrilling 
with  the  passionate  pain  of  his  accepted  doom. 

The  crash  of  the  renewed  applause  aroused  him 
from  his  absorption  and,  hand  in  hand  with 
Senta,  he  emerged  from  his  watery  grave  to  bow 
his  appreciation.  But  it  was  not  enough.  Even 
to  his  dressing-room,  he  was  pursued  by  the  cries 
of  his  name.  Yielding  reluctantly,  he  went  out 
before  the  curtain  once  again.  Then  he  hurried 
back,  and  began  tearing  off'  his  costume  with  a 
feverish  haste  which  took  no  account  of  the  time 
before  he  could  get  a  train  back  to  New  York. 

As  Thayer's  cab  turned  into  the  familiar  street 
and  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  Lorimers1  house, 
[349] 


The  Dominant  Strain 


the  gray  dawn  was  breaking.  Before  its  wan 
color,  the  street  lamps  turned  to  a  sickly  yellow, 
and  the  asphalt  street  stretched  away  between 
them  like  a  long  chalky  ruler  bordered  with  dots 
of  luminous  paint.  Above  him,  the  lights  in  the 
house  glared  out  across  the  sombre  dawn,  and 
something  in  their  steady,  unsympathetic  glow,  in 
the  gray  dawn  and  in  the  yellowing  lamps  carried 
Thayer's  mind  far  back  to  that  other  winter  morn 
ing  when  he  had  hurried  through  the  storm  to  be 
with  Beatrix  in  her  hour  of  need. 

The  old  butler  'opened  the  door  to  him,  and 
took  his  coat.  Then  he  pointed  towards  the 
library. 

"  She  is  there,"  he  said  softly,  with  an  odd 
little  quaver  in  his  thin  old  voice.  "  I  think  you 
may  go  to  her." 

Thayer  crossed  the  hall,  laid  his  hand  on  the 
door,  then  hesitated.  For  an  instant,  he  shrank 
from  the  scene  that  might  be  before  him.  Then 
instinctively  he  drew  himself  up  and  pushed  open 
the  door. 

"  Beatrix  ?  "  he  said. 

The  color  rushed  to  her  face,  as  she  sprang  up 
and  held  out  her  hands. 

"  Thank  God,  you  have  come  !  " 

[350] 


Little,  Brown,  and  Co.'s  New  Novels 

The  Siege  of  Youth.  By  FRANCES  CHARLES,  author 
of  "  In  the  Country  God  Forgot."  Illustrated.  i2mo. 
Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

This  is  a  story  of  the  present  day,  and  its  scene  is  San  Francisco,  the 
author's  home.  It  deals  with  art,  with  journalism,  and  with  human 
nature,  and  its  love  episodes  are  charming  and  true  to  life.  The 
three  women  characters  of  the  book  are  finely  drawn  and  contrasted, 
there  is  much  local  color  in  the  story,  and  a  great  deal  of  bright  and 
epigrammatic  writing.  The  author's  previous  book,  "  In  the  Coun 
try  God  Forgot,"  has  been  received  with  the  utmost  favor.  The 
Boston  Daily  Advertiser  says  it  "  discloses  a  new  writer  of  uncommon 
power." 

Barbara,  a  Woman  of  the  West.     By  JOHN 

H.  WHITSON.     Illustrated  by  Chase  Emerson.     12010. 
Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

A  distinctively  American  novel,  dealing  with  life  in  the  far  West,  and 
in  many  ways  remarkable,  with  a  novel  plot  and  unusual  situations. 
The  scenes  of  the  story  are  a  Western  ranch,  Cripple  Creek,  and 
the  City  of  San  Diego.  The  heroine,  Barbara,  is  the  loyal  wife  of  a 
somewhat  self-centred  man  of  literary  tastes,  Roger  Timberly,  living 
on  a  ranch  in  Kansas.  Barbara's  long  and  patient  quest  for  her  hus 
band,  who  has  gone  to  Cripple  Creek  to  visit  a  mine,  the  means  which 
she  adopts  to  support  herself,  the  ardor  with  which  she  is  wooed  by 
Gilbert  Bream,  and  the  complications  which  ensue  are  extremely 
interesting. 

The  Shadow  of  the  Czar.  By  JOHN  R.  CARLING. 
Illustrated,  ismo.  Decorated  cloth,  $1.50.  Fifth 
Edition. 

An  engrossing  romance  of  the  sturdy,  wholesome  sort,  in  which  the 
action  is  never  allowed  to  drag,  best  describes  this  popular  novel. 
"  The  Shadow  of  the  Czar  "  is  ?  stirring  story  of  the  romantic  attach 
ment  of  a  dashing  English  officer  for  Princess  Barbara,  of  the  old 
Polish  Principality  of  Czernova,  and  the  conspiracy  of  the  Duke  of 
Bora,  aided  by  Russia,  to  dispossess  the  princess  of  her  throne. 


Little,  Brown,  and  Co.'s  New  Novels 


The  Dominant  Strain.  A  Novel.  By  ANNA  CHAPIN 
RAY,  author  of  "  Teddy,  her  Book,"  etc.  Illustrated 
in  color  by  Harry  C.  Edwards.  i2mo.  Decorated 
cloth,  $1.50. 

Anna  Chapin  Ray's  new  novel  has  for  its  hero  Cotton  Mather  Thayer, 
whose  father  was  a  Boston  blueblood,  and  whose  mother  was  a  Rus 
sian  musician.  The  latter  gave  to  him  his  musical  temperament,  and 
the  title  of  the  book  suggests  the  author's  main  motif  —  the  warring 
strains,  Puritan  and  Slav,  in  her  hero.  The  central  idea  is  the  mis 
take  a  woman  makes  who  attempts  to  reform  a  man  after  marriage. 
Beatrix  Dane,  the  heroine  of  the  book,  discovers  during  her  engage 
ment  that  Lorimer,  her  lover,  has  an  inherited  appetite  for  drink,  but 
from  a  mistaken  sense  of  duty  does  not  break  her  troth,  and  her  inti 
mate  friends  shrink  from  any  interference.  Much  of  the  novel  has  a 
decidedly  musical  atmosphere,  and  the  attitude  of  some  portions  of 
New  York  society  toward  musical  people  is  well  described. 

A  Detached  Pirate.  By  HELEN  MILECETE.  Illus 
trated  in  color  by  I.  H.  Caliga.  i2mo.  Decorated 
cloth,  $1.50. 

A  misunderstanding,a  divorce,  and  a  reconciliation  furnish  the  theme 
of  this  bright,  clever,  witty,  society  novel.  The  events  occur  in 
London,  in  Halifax  and  its  garrison,  and  in  New  York ;  and  the  story 
is  told  by  Gay  Vandeleur,  a  very  charming  heroine.  The  book  will 
entertain  and  delight  all  who  read  it. 

The  Pharaoh  and  the  Priest.    Translated  from 

the  original  Polish  of  ALEXANDER  GLOVATSKI,  by  JERE 
MIAH  CURTIN.  Illustrated.  i2mo.  Decorated  cloth, 
$1.50.  Fifth  Edition. 

A  powerful  portrayal  of  Ancient  Egypt  in  the  eleventh  century  before 
Christ  is  this  novel  in  which  Alexander  Glovatski  has  vividly  de 
picted  the  pitiless  struggle  between  the  pharaoh  and  the  priesthood 
for  supremacy.  "  Here  is  a  historical  novel  in  the  best  sense,"  says 
the  New  York  Commercial  Advertiser,"  *.  novel  which  makes  a  van 
ished  civilization  live  again." 


Little,  Brown,  and  Co.'s  New  Novels 


Love  Thrives  in  War.  A  Romance  of  the  Frontier 
in  1812.  By  MARY  CATHERINE  CROWLEY,  author  of 
"A  Daughter  of  New  France,"  "The  Heroine  of  the 
Strait,"  etc.  Illustrated  by  Clyde  O.  De  Land.  12010. 
Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

The  surrender  of  General  Howe  and  his  American  army  to  the  British 
and  their  Indian  allies  under  Tecumseh,  and  other  stirring  events  of 
the  War  of  1812  form  the  historical  background  of  Miss  Crowley's 
latest  romance.  The  reader's  interest  is  at  once  centered  in  the 
heroine,  Laurente  Macintosh,  a  pretty  and  coquettish  Scotch  girl. 
The  many  incidents  which  occur  in  the  vicinity  of  Detroit  are  related 
with  skill  and  grace.  The  characters,  real  and  fictitious,  are  strongly 
contrasted.  Miss  Crowley's  new  romance  is  strongly  imaginative  and 
picturesquely  written,  wholesome,  inspiring,  and  absorbing. 

The  Wars  of  Peace.  By  A.  F.  WILSON.  Illustrated 
by  H.  C.  Ireland.  i2mo.  Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

A  strong  and  skilfully  constructed  novel  upon  a  subject  of  the  great 
est  importance  and  interest  at  the  present  time, — "Trusts'1  and 
their  consequences,  Albion  Harding,  a  successful  and  immensely 
ambitious  financier,  organizes  an  industrial  combination  which  causes 
much  suffering  and  disaster,  and  eventually  alienates  his  only  son, 
who,  declining  to  enter  the  "Trust,"  withdraws  his  capital  from 
his  father's  business,  and  buys  a  small  mill  and  attempts  to  manage 
it  according  to  his  own  ideas.  The  account  of  the  destruction  of 
Theodore  Harding' s  mill,  and  his  rescue,  is  dramatic,  vivid,  and 
thrilling. 

A  Prince  of  Sinners.  By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM, 
author  of  "A  Millionaire  of  Yesterday,"  "The  Traitors," 
etc.  Illustrated.  121110.  $1.50. 

An  engrossing  story  of  English  social  life  told  by  a  skilled  hand. 
Lord  Arranmore,  returning  to  England  after  an  absence  of  twenty 
misspent  years,  finds  his  manly  son,  Kingston  Brooks,  unforgiving, 
and  determined  to  work  out  his  own  career.  The  difficulties  with 
which  Brooks  meets  in  carrying  out  his  purpose,  the  attempts  of  Lord 
Arranmore  to  assist  him,  together  with  the  divided  love  interest, 
make  up  an  ingenious  present-day  romance,  which  possesses  an 
extraordinary  fascination. 


Little,  Brown,  and  Co.'s  New  Novels 

A  Rose  Of  Normandy.  By  WILLIAM  R.  A.  WILSON. 
Illustrated  by  Ch.  Grunwald.  1 2 mo.  Decorated  cloth, 
$1.50. 

A  most  entertaining  historical  romance  of  France  and  Canada  in  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.  Robert  Cavelier,  Sieur  de  la  Salle,  and  his 
faithful  lieutenant,  Henri  de  Tonti,  are  leading  characters,  the  latter 
being  the  hero  of  the  book.  The  explorations  of  La  Salle,  his  hard 
ships  and  adventures,  the  love  of  Tonti  for  Renee,  the  "  Rose  of 
Normandy,"  their  escapes  from  the  Indians,  and  other  adventures, 
make  up  a  story  which  the  author  has  told  with  great  spirit. 

The  Spoils  Of  Empire.  A  Romance  of  the  Old 
World  and  the  New.  By  FRANCIS  NEWTON  THORPE, 
author  of  "  The  Constitutional  History  of  the  United 
States,"  etc.  Illustrated  by  Frank  B.  Masters.  i2mo. 
Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 

The  Spanish  Inquisition  and  the  wondrous  splendor  and  power  of 
Mexico  in  the  time  of  Montezuma  furnish  the  rich  historical  back 
ground  of  this  brilliant  and  absorbing  romance.  The  conquest  of 
Mexico  by  the  adventurous  Spaniards  is  vividly  described ;  and  the 
passion  of  Juan  Estoval,  a  follower  of  Cortez,  for  the  beautiful  Aztec 
princess,  Dorothea,  the  daughter  of  Montezuma,  furnishes  a  tender 
and  charming  love  story. 

Sarah  Tuldon.  A  Woman  Who  Had  Her  Way.  By 
ORME  AGNUS,  author  of  "  Love  in  Our  Village,"  "  Jan 
Oxber,"  etc.  Illustrated.  i2mo.  Decorated  cloth, 
51.50. 

A  remarkable  study  of  an  English  peasant  girl  of  strong  character 
who  was  developed  by  the  circumstances  of  her  life  into  a  fine,  noble- 
hearted,  and  generous  woman.  Sarah  Tuldon  is  a  very  unusual,  origi 
nal,  and  racy  type  of  character,  and  outside  of  Thomas  Hardy's  books 
there  is  no  such  realistic  study  of  conditions  which  exist  in  Elngland 
to-day  among  the  laborers,  as  that  given  in  the  pages  of  this  story. 
The  author  has  genuine  humor  and  pathos  and  great  dramatic  skill. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  073  060     6 


